


Return to Antigua

by Mermaid70 (Smiff)



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Love, Regency, Romance, Slavery, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiff/pseuds/Mermaid70
Summary: I've always been interested in what happened to Sidney in the years prior to meeting Charlotte - Eliza abandoning him, his time in Antigua and how it affected him, what happened with Mr Lambe and Georgiana, and I hope that Season 2 (when we get it) will go into this more. So I did a little historical research and read or reread a few books about the period and about the West Indies, and I started writing a Season 2 continuation, but I hit a stumbling block with all the shenanigans and machinations to get Eliza to give him up and to get Charlotte back with him, and what might happen to Tom and Mary and all the rest. I know that plenty of other people have written much better Season 2 continuations and I have never tried to write in Regency style before.Update: going to try and work in Charlotte's story too, but the main focus is on thoughts and feelings, not complicated plot strands. Hopefully it will work and we'll get them back together and resolve a few moral dilemmas along the way.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Eliza Campion/Sidney Parker, Georgiana Lambe/Otis Molyneux
Comments: 333
Kudos: 254





	1. Mrs Campion's parlour, London, November 1819

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanditon Sisterhood](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sanditon+Sisterhood).



Eliza had turned very pale; her features pinched and disapproving.

“How long did you say?”

Sidney placed his teacup on the saucer. “I didn’t,” he replied, somewhat curtly. “But I would wager at least six months, possibly a year…”

Eliza’s fingers curled tightly around the folds of her gown. “But the wedding is due to take place in April!”

Sidney stroked his jaw, attempting to hide his lack of disappointment. “Then we have no choice but to postpone it. I’m sorry, Eliza. There’s nothing I can do. See the letter, here.”

He proffered her a somewhat battered letter that had taken six weeks to reach his address. She waved it away impatiently. “I don’t need to see the details.” She gave him a piercing glare. “You’re taking that girl with you I hope?”

“That girl, yes. My ward. Georgiana. After all, it’s her property, or will be in a year or so. She’s especially keen to ensure that the estate is managed properly and fairly.” Sidney’s tone was neutral, but pointed.

“Well, that’s one blessing, I suppose,” laughed Eliza. To say that Eliza and Georgiana had not warmed to each other would be something of an understatement. Georgiana had made it very plain that she despised Eliza, and was adamant that Eliza would not have any influence or control over her future. She had insisted to Sidney that she would rather stay in Sanditon, locked up in her bedroom at Mrs Griffiths’ establishment until the day of her 21st birthday, than move in with Eliza and Sidney once they were married.

She despised Eliza possibly only a little more than she despised Sidney. Despite the first tentative signs of warming to him after the realisation that he had saved Otis from a lifetime of debt, his actions towards Charlotte had now ensured her enmity forever. In her eyes, he had allowed Charlotte to fall in love with him and then cast her off when it suited him. Sidney had not been able to admit the truth to her, and had in fact admitted it to no one. Only his close family knew the real reason why he had engaged himself to Mrs Campion, and of them, only Mary seemed to have the slightest hint that it had been effected in spite of his better feelings. Mary was sympathetic, but what could she do? If he did not keep his side of the bargain, Tom would end up in prison and a lifetime of debt and poverty would await her and her children.

A few short days ago, he had received a letter, the letter he was now displaying to Eliza, from a neighbouring property owner in St Mary’s, Antigua, concerning the late Mr Lambe’s plantation. The estate manager Sidney had appointed just over a year ago had revealed himself to be lazy and untrustworthy, and his mismanagement was both haemorrhaging money from the estate and inciting the workers to rebel. Although all Mr Lambe’s slaves had been freed before his death, most had continued working on the plantation, where they were ensured a better wage than anywhere else on the island, but sloth, drunkenness and cruelty had unfortunately returned to the plantation and the workers were now being treated no better than before their emancipation. They were leaving in their droves, preferring to take their chances elsewhere.

Georgiana had been horrified when he apprised her of this information and insisted on accompanying him to Antigua to oversee the estate and restore its fair treatment and its fortunes. After all, she would soon be in a position to inherit and perhaps even be able to manage it herself, or so she claimed. Sidney knew full well how difficult this would be for a lone woman in her position and they had argued at length until eventually, Sidney had given in to her demands and agreed that she could accompany him. After all, there was little for her to do in Sanditon, especially now Charlotte had gone, and she longed to be active. So keen was Sidney to escape London, escape Eliza and the imminent prospect of their wedding, that he was willing to endure six weeks on board a sailing ship with his unruly ward. He was also hoping against hope that he might be able to reconcile a little with her during the voyage, perhaps even explain a little of his circumstances.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he glanced over at Eliza, who was regarding him with slightly more compassion than before.

“So when do you set sail?”

“Friday next.” Today was Sunday.

“So soon,” sighed Eliza. “And we have had so little time to reacquaint ourselves with each other…”

Sidney nodded, although his thoughts tended in the opposite direction. That week he had spent in London before the regatta, reacquainting himself with Eliza, had been more than enough to confirm that she was no longer the woman he wanted by his side in life, that in fact he had spent far too many years yearning after a romanticised illusion. There was only one woman he wanted by his side, and that woman was lost to him forever. Lost on the clifftops, perhaps never to meet again.

Yet Eliza was now moving towards him, her skirts bustling. She came to sit beside him on the low chaise longue, placing her hand in his lap and squeezing his forearm.

“Sidney…” she began, flashing him her most charming of smiles, “After so many years, forced apart by circumstance, it seems cruel that we should be parted again, just as we have begun to resume our former intimacy. And that our long-expected joy should be so unjustly postponed in this way.”

She placed her hand directly on his thigh, looking up at him with her wide, unblinking blue eyes. “I am well aware, Sidney, that you are no longer the green boy you once were, when I knew you all those years ago. And I, of course, am a widow. Although,” she tittered, “Mr Campion’s age precluded him somewhat from his conjugal duties. Of course, one makes one’s own…arrangements.” She smiled again. “I wonder if, before you depart, we could seal our union in such a way that…”

Sidney rose abruptly and walked towards the window, looking out into the busy London thoroughfare. He huffed angrily through his nose, but not so that she could observe him. He then turned and regarded her politely.

“Thank you, Eliza, but I would not dream of compromising your position in this way. When we are married, then I will do my duty by you. But not before. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to and shall return to Bedford Place.”

So saying, he swiftly exited the room. Eliza, in shock, called after him, “Sidney, the ball tonight at Lady Marlborough’s…” But he was gone.

************************

Sidney returned to Bedford Place, frustrated and somewhat disgusted. How would he ever be able to marry that woman when his heart, his body and his soul belonged to another? It had been a long time, far too long, since his last physical union with a woman, and that had only been a fleeting, drunken encounter, at Mrs Harries’ establishment many, many months ago, but there was now only one woman he could ever imagine wanting to lie with. And that woman was not Eliza. Thank god for the feckless estate manager in Antigua. Thank god that the wedding would be postponed. At least this would give him some respite, some small chance to do whatever might be possible to escape matrimony to her. That was, if he even survived the voyage and made it back again. Eliza was undeniably attractive, in a superficial sense, but the thought of lying with her was anathema to him; he doubted he would even be able to perform. He would have to close his eyes and think of another, as he so often did these days. Late at night, his head on the pillow, his senses numbed by whisky, he would imagine her soft, warm body wrapped tightly around him, her honey-sweet lips, those lips that had only met his once. His cry of release was always accompanied by a cry of pain, a tear shed for her, for his Charlotte.

He often wondered where she was, what she was doing. Back in the bosom of her loving family, doubtless distracted by her many chores on the farm and her many siblings. He had long since been corrected of his foolhardy notion that she spent her days playing the piano and doing embroidery, waiting for someone to take her off her father's hands. He smiled wryly at the memory. No, she was more likely to be working on plans to improve the tenants' cottages or hunting for rabbits. She was not one for traditional female accomplishments; however, she loved to dance. Perhaps she was dancing at the village dance with one of the village boys, someone more her own age, someone better suited, someone with fewer woes, without such a disagreeable history, without such a burdensome family. She was young, she was clever, she was beautiful and vibrant, she would have no trouble finding herself a husband, she would soon forget all about him, Sidney Parker. She deserved better.


	2. West India Quay, London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...I originally wrote a scene before this one about Charlotte and Alison in London with Lady Worcester, meeting the Babingtons at a ball, then Charlotte and Sidney having a rather over-sentimental parting before he heads off to Antigua, exchanging locks of hair, no less! But I'm not sure about it - it's probably more realistic that he doesn't see her and everything is done via letter...

Sidney stretched out his long legs on the bunk of his cabin, put his hands behind his head and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Outside the porthole, he could hear the hustle and bustle of the harbour; the constant cries of the traders and the shouts of the sailors. Georgiana was safely ensconced in her quarters and they were about to set sail. He and his ward would be meeting again at dinner and he was sincerely hoping this would be the start of a new relationship between them. They had at least three weeks, probably more, on board ship together; surely that was enough time to win her round, to make her see that he was genuinely sincere in his intentions to become a better guardian, that he would consider her needs and strive to make her happy. He was certainly relieved that she was away from the pernicious influence of Eliza; indeed that they both were.

His last meeting with Eliza, two days previously, had been a tense one. After he had flatly turned down her proposition to join her in her bedchamber, the blinkers seemed to have fallen from her eyes. Up until that point, he had been fairly adept at complying with her demands and feigning his affection, but that was a step too far. She genuinely seemed to have deluded herself that he had agreed to this marriage out of desire and affection. True, ten years ago, that desire and affection had been real and he had hung on to his memory of their puppy love for far too long, using it as an excuse to shut down his emotions and to keep any other woman at arm's length. Charlotte had changed all that, but in truth, he knew the illusion had been shattered many years before; he had simply refused to admit it.

When Eliza threw him over for Mr Campion, he had been a mere boy of 20, awaiting his majority to marry her, but in possession of only a modest fortune. She claimed that her family had forced her into the marriage, but he knew full well that she had been complicit. She was not about to throw in her lot with a second son, a young man of uncertain prospects, when she could be assured a life of luxury and leisure. Her marriage to the elderly Mr Campion had borne no progeny, but there were rumours that she had taken other lovers, taking great care not to fall with child.

In the wake of his rejection, Sidney had frequented gambling dens, drunk far too much brandy and whisky than was good for him, and become a regular visitor to one or two London brothels, where the girls were always pleased to see him, unless he had imbibed too much. That, therefore, had been his experience of love; a quick, drunken fumble in a dark, dank room with a nameless woman, rouged to the hilt, her senses dulled by opiates, who made it her business to pretend she was enjoying the occasion, even when she wasn't. For a short while he had visited one particular young girl, who seemed to have a modicum of affection for him, and their encounters had been slower and more tender than his usual couplings, but this young woman had soon disappeared from the brothel and he never discovered what had happened to her.

As his dissolute life led him further and further into debt, he turned to Tom in despair, who dragged him away from London, sobered him up in Sanditon, paid off his debts and sent him on the next ship to Antigua, to make his fortune in the sugar trade. Mr Parker Senior, who had passed away while Sidney was at school, had contacts in the West Indies, where he had been fortunate to make a quick return on his investment, and Sidney was offered the opportunity to work on the trading side of a plantation owned by one of these men in Antigua. Sidney had very little idea where he was heading or what he would be doing; he was merely relieved to be out of London, away from England, away from Eliza and away from the pain and heartbreak she had caused him.

Now, some eight years later, he was once again relieved to be heading away from England and away from his nemesis. Two days previously, following a polite, but tense dinner, he had joined her in her parlour once again. An awkward silence reigned between them.

"I have begun making arrangements to postpone the wedding," said Eliza somewhat coldly, taking a sip of her wine.

Sidney nodded. "I'm sorry. It cannot be helped." He picked up his own glass.

"You could at least pretend to be a little disappointed, Sidney," she said pointedly. If truth be told, she had been feeling a little uneasy about this impending marriage for some time but, in the euphoria of her victory, had pushed all such doubts to the back of her mind. Sidney was inattentive, frequently absent and, when he did grace her with his presence, he was moody, taciturn and seemingly devoid of all wit or conversation. He drank too much, he never danced unless she asked him to and he was very short on affection.

"You did not have to agree to marry me, you know," she sighed.

He looked up. "I beg to differ. Those were your terms."

Eliza regarded him directly. "So you do not love me after all?" Her voice contained little emotion but her lip was trembling slightly.

Sidney put down his glass, his eyes focused on the table. "Love and marriage do not often go hand in hand, do they?" he murmured. "You yourself can attest to that."

"That is no answer." She looked down at her lap, her lips pursed.

"Eliza," he said, a little more condescension in his tone, moving closer and taking her hand. "I made my feelings clear to you after the Regatta, did I not? I loved you once, many years ago. I still retain a great deal of affection for you. But I am not the same man that I was ten years ago, far from it. I believe I made my position clear."

Her eyes narrowed. "I could withdraw my investment, you know."

A sharp intake of breath. "And send my brother to the debtors' prison? And his family to the poorhouse? You would be that heartless?"

"No. Contrary to popular belief, I do possess a heart. That heart has always belonged to you, Sidney." She gave him an uncertain smile, but he could not suppress a scornful laugh.

"So much so that you threw me over to secure your comfort!"

"I was forced to do so..."

"Eliza, you know very well that your parents approved our match."

Eliza coloured. "That was then. That is all in the past, Sidney."

"Well then, let us see what the future holds." He looked thoughtfully out of the window at the darkened street.

Eliza hesitated, then placed a hand on his arm. "If you will not come to my chamber, Sidney, at least kiss me goodbye."

"Very well." Sidney turned to face her, bracing himself for the challenge.

Eliza tilted her face towards him and closed her eyes. Keeping his hands firmly in his own lap, Sidney's lips brushed hers. They were cold and uninviting to the touch, yet as he began to retreat she placed her hands on his shoulders, keeping him close. Awkwardly, their lips moved against each other, like two caterpillars rubbing their backs. Eliza pulled away, opening her eyes again.

"Thank you." It was hard for her to hide her disappointment. "You will write to me, I hope?" she added forlornly.

He nodded. "If you wish." He stood up. "Goodbye Eliza."

"Goodbye Sidney." Her voice was trembling. Sidney took his leave.

Sidney was relieved that Eliza had not mentioned Charlotte again. She had clearly been suspicious of their connection and she had it within her power to shred Charlotte's reputation, should she wish to. Charlotte was innocently unaware of the complex ways of London society and the Machiavellian machinations that people effected to ensure they retained the upper hand. Not that Charlotte had anything to be ashamed of; she was as pure as the driven snow; her only mistake had been to fall in love with him. In his meeting with Babbers at the inn two days ago, he had explained everything he could of the catastrophe that had befallen the Parker family since the fateful fire on the night of the midsummer ball, and how he, Sidney, had been the one to bear the brunt of the consequences. Babington had been thoroughly disquieted by his story and assured him that he would do everything within his power to attract investors to Sanditon and to keep Charlotte out of harm's way; specifically, out of Eliza's way. The Babingtons, however, would only be staying in town for a month or two more, as they intended to retire to the country to await Esther's confinement. Sidney heartily congratulated his old friend on his forthcoming joy and they parted with more than a little emotion on both sides.

"Godspeed and a safe voyage," he had said, patting Sidney on the back.

Sidney laid back on the bunk and closed his eyes, as the ship pulled out of the dock, creaking and swaying in the wind.

****************************

At dinner that night, Georgiana greeted him courteously, but she was not in the mood to converse. Sidney was tired and did not force the issue. It took another few mealtimes before she softened a little; or perhaps she was simply in need of a little entertainment. The days on board ship could seem very long, and she had only Crockett, her maidservant, for company. Eventually, one evening Sidney managed to forge a tiny crack in her veneer of hostility.

"So, are you glad to be returning home, Georgiana?" he enquired, raising a glass of wine to his lips.

"I am certainly glad to be leaving that dreary town," she replied shortly, rolling her eyes a little. "There was very little to engage my attention in England, after all, once you had forcibly removed me from London." As she cut her meat, she looked across the small dining room at the calm waters espied through the porthole.

"That was done for your own safety, as you know," sighed Sidney.

She ignored him. "And you? What are your feelings on returning to the land where you made your fortune? I thought you had sworn never to return," she said, spearing her fork somewhat pointedly.

Sidney sat back in his chair, an inscrutable smile on his face. "I find myself curiously relieved. I feel as if I am master of my own destiny once more, a feeling I have not experienced in many months."

Georgiana frowned, a little surprised. "Lucky for some."

"Georgiana, you too will be mistress of your own destiny before long. In less than a year, you will turn 21 and whether you stay in Antigua, live in London, travel the world, or even marry will be entirely of your choosing."

"And you would let me marry?" She regarded him directly, her fork poised.

"It would not be in my power to refuse," was his answer. He paused, then regarded her with a small smile around his lips. "I know you write to him. Where is his ship at present?"

"How do you know? You have spies?" Her fork clattered onto the dish.

Sidney looked across at her, sighing a little. “Come, Georgiana, who do you think paid his indenture to join the merchant navy?”

Georgiana pushed her chair back, ready to spring up from the table. “You?! Why did you do so? To keep him away from me?”

But Sidney was unmoved. "No, actually, to assist him in his new life, to help him make a man of himself. London is not the place for a man such as him, it can drag you down into the quagmire. I should know.” He grimaced. “Who knows, perhaps Otis is a good man, after all. You will have time enough to decide if he is worthy of your affections. You, at least, will be wealthy enough not to be forced into any marriage against your wishes." His countenance fell.

Georgiana regarded him curiously. "So is that why you are happy to leave London? To get away from Mrs Campion?"

He looked up. "I did not say anything of the sort." He paused, surveying the bottom of his wine glass. "I will say only one thing. That you were wrong to accuse me of seeking to ruin the happiness of our... mutual friend. It was not my decision. I was forced by circumstance."

"Charlotte?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, Charlotte." Simply saying the name felt like honey on his lips. There was another long pause, Sidney holding his wine glass in the palm of his hand as if to caress it. He looked up, but directed his gaze across the room as he spoke. "Do you ever... um... correspond with Miss Heywood?"

Guilt was written across Georgiana’s face. "I confess I have not written much of late. She departed so suddenly and we were not on such good terms as previously. I have heard she is come to London for the winter season."

"Yes," he replied, "I have heard so too."

Georgiana tilted her head to one side. "Perhaps I could write to her... find out how she is progressing."

Sidney said nothing, only nodded. Their eyes met with an unspoken mutual understanding.

Georgiana permitted herself a small smile. “Did you notice the name of this ship? The HMS Queen Charlotte?”

Sidney could not help breaking into a smile. “The irony did not escape me.”

“Perhaps it is a sign,” she replied cheekily. "And so you do not mind if I write to Otis? His ship is currently rounding the Americas, I believe."

"I do not mind." Sidney took a swig of his wine.

"You and I are perhaps more alike than it would seem."

"Perhaps we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard to imagine what it would have been like travelling on a ship at that time – I need to pay a visit to the Maritime Museum in Greenwich (fantastic place), but London trips are out at the moment… I assume that as wealthy passengers, Sidney and Georgiana would get their own quarters and be served food. Voyages to the West Indies took anything from three to six weeks at that time, depending on the winds. Queen Charlotte was the wife of George III and mother of George IV (Prince Regent). She died in 1818 (there is a pub named after her in my town!)


	3. The Queen Charlotte, somewhere in the Atlantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter inside Sidney's head... not really sure about this one, but here it is anyway!

After ten days or so of calm waters, the winds began to pick up; fortuitous in some ways, as the tailwind would get them to the island more quickly, but the swell of the waves increased in strength and many passengers were confined to their cabins with seasickness, Georgiana being one of them. Sidney did not normally succumb to this malaise, but even he felt a little nauseous and spent his time strolling on deck or alone in his quarters. He had plenty of time to think; about the distant past and more recent events; perhaps too much time. Since returning from Antigua three years previously, he had kept himself busy in London, wheeling and dealing, trading in all kinds of goods, but intentionally avoiding the sugar trade, apart from the produce of the late Mr Lambe’s plantation. He knew all too well how this trade was tainted with the stain of slavery.

During these three years, he had blocked out the memories of his time in the West Indies, immersing himself in the hustle and bustle of London, distracting himself with frequent trips to inns, the odd gambling house, and the usual round of social events, when business demanded. At these society occasions, he would wine and dine with the most influential people in the capital, buttering them up for his own ends. Much to his irritation, he was also forced to indulge in small talk – and the occasional dance - with a succession of young ladies, propelled forward by their overbearing mothers, eager to make the acquaintance of the most eligible bachelor in London; certainly the most handsome, even if not the wealthiest. He would politely do his duty, but never felt in the slightest attracted to any of these simpering butterflies, so keen to impress him with their wit or their accomplishments, so eager to flatter him. He took great pleasure in tricking them into agreeing with the most ridiculous statements, making them look like fools, before he moved swiftly on to the next, leaving them puzzling over what they had said. It was the only thing that afforded him entertainment at these infernal occasions.

On meeting Charlotte, he had treated her in the same manner: a thin veneer of flattery concealing his evident disdain. But he had not been prepared for Miss Heywood. She was the complete antithesis of the superficial beauties he was accustomed to: her honesty and her candidness had taken him aback and he often thought with shame of how he had brutishly attacked her with his words at that first ball, and then consistently under-estimated her in the weeks that followed. She was no simpering, silly maiden; she was a woman of sense and purpose, and he found himself increasingly drawn towards her, in unabashed admiration of her character and completely captivated by her beauty, all the more because she did not appear to be aware of how beautiful and alluring she truly was. By the time they attended the London ball together, they had come some way to making amends for the misunderstandings and blunderings of the past and were entering a new phase of mutual respect and yes, perhaps love. All those years of incarceration inside an emotional prison of his own choosing, all those years out in the wilderness, in the desert, starved of love and affection. Charlotte had come along and broken down those walls, held out her hand and showed him a way to escape. She had offered him water to quench his thirst, and the strength to live once more, to live life as it ought to be lived. Perhaps he would never see her again, perhaps he would still be forced to marry another, but at least he had that memory of her generosity, her love, that small spark of hope in his soul.

Sidney had not lain with a woman for a long time and he missed it acutely. Even before Charlotte, for some time he had renounced the boarding house where Crowe and Babbers were wont to end up after a night on the tiles. Although he had frequented brothels on one or two occasions after first returning from Antigua, seeking relief and release, he always woke up the next morning in a pit of self-loathing and disgust at his actions. What he wanted was a wife; a wife with whom he could share a mutual, tender passion, a true understanding of the minds and a true communion of the body. He knew, as soon as they had kissed on the clifftop, that Charlotte was destined to be that wife, and he knew from the way she regarded him on the balcony at the midsummer ball that it was her heart’s desire too, but fate had cruelly intervened. The Queen Charlotte. Was it a good omen? He could only hope so.

Charlotte. He thought back to the day on the lake, when they had rowed in harmony, his bare hands covering hers. It was the first time he had felt her hands without gloves, and it had been an intoxicating sensation. That simple touch, coupled with the scent of her hair, blowing softly in the breeze, the movement of her supple body back and forth, her bosom softly rising and falling in her simple white dress, the way her eyes searched his in puzzlement at his words and actions, the smooth curve of her hip and thigh under the thin muslin fabric when he had boldly reached out to touch her, the startled yet knowing look she had bestowed on him. Some strange magnetic force had drawn him towards her that day; the same force that had repelled him away from Eliza. He had been so close to moving forward and kissing her, feeling those soft, plump lips against his. Sidney lay back and closed his eyes, calling up these images from the summer in Sanditon, but this time they were alone on the water, with no one else around, no one to interrupt them, so they let the boat drift, and she let him lie on top of her in the bottom of the boat, she let him kiss her, she let him run his fingers through her hair as she held tightly onto his back... Groaning with agonised pleasure, Sidney buried his face in the bolster as the ship rocked and swayed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We might take a detour next and see how Charlotte's doing...  
> I've written several more chapters of this but I've not finished it although I have some ideas, so I'm going to experiment as I go along... any feedback is welcome!


	4. Camden Place, London, December 1819

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and encouragement! I decided to put in some Charlotte chapters too - and we'll see where this goes! Again, the focus is more on thoughts and feelings than plot details. But I would like to get them to a HEA one way or another...

Charlotte and Alison were standing patiently in front of the looking glass, while the maids adjusted their dresses, tightened their stays and put the finishing touches to their hair. At least Alison was standing patiently; Charlotte found all this rather tiresome, but she knew it was a means to an end. When Lady Worcester had written to Willingden several weeks previously to invite her and her sister to spend part of the winter season in town, the sisters had been delighted, although Charlotte had wondered about Susan’s motivations. However, she had been a good friend to her and perhaps a trip to town would shake her out of her low spirits.

After her heart had been so sorely bruised by her experience that summer in Sanditon, she had shunned society and was happiest out on the farm on her own or with her brothers and sisters, hunting, fishing and generally roaming around the countryside. Alison preferred to stay indoors helping her mother with the more traditionally female pursuits. Charlotte could not bear to spend hour after hour in the kitchen; the only thing that soothed her soul was to be in the great outdoors, with only the fields, the trees and the sky for company. She would come home as dusk fell, eat a hearty meal, then fall asleep instantly, worn out by fresh air and exercise.

And yet, there were nights when she awoke with a start, in the black midst of the night, when she knew she had been dreaming about him, about his black coat, his black hat, his black horse, riding after her black carriage. She woke up with the sound of the pounding hooves ringing in her ears, the whinnying of his horse, and the dark look on his face as he came striding towards her. The small candle of hope that had briefly flamed in her breast before being extinguished forever. She would rise from the bed she shared with Alison and walk over to the casement window, looking out at the dark night, a sliver of moonlight illuminating the lawn in front of their farmhouse. She would open the window a fraction to feel the sharpness of the air and to hear the owls screeching in the distance, and she would wonder if he too was awake somewhere, looking at the moon and listening to the owls, if he too was dreaming about her.

Most likely not. He had returned to his London house and his London life, and soon he would have a London wife. Their love had been but the madness of a single summer, sealed with one short, sweet kiss, then irrevocably torn apart by fire and disaster. Sidney had many other concerns and commitments now and she, sadly, was not one of them. It was unlikely he even spared her a passing thought. And yet she remembered how he had looked at her when he said goodbye on the clifftops, the look of desperation in his eyes, the way his body seemed to be yearning towards hers and how it had taken all their strength to stay apart.

Charlotte shook herself. No matter. She was here in London for a purpose and she owed it to her friend to set her mind to that purpose. Lady Susan had taken an instant dislike to Mrs Campion and, either for a noble cause or out of spite, had set herself the task of finding new investors for Sanditon. Charlotte considered it an uphill task, but she was willing to assist, although she did not see how even attracting a thousand new investors would alter the now unbreakable Faustian pact that Sidney had made with his former lover.

Whenever she received a kindly letter from Mary, it was full of the joys of the rebuilding; how happy Tom was to see his town rising from the ashes, how happy Mary was that Tom was happy and their family was safe, and how grateful she was to Sidney for his sacrifice. Sacrifice. It was a strange word to use under the circumstances, but Charlotte understood that this was Mary's way of alluding to her own sacrifice, of subtly begging forgiveness, between the lines, for snatching away Charlotte's brief interlude of happiness, of sending her home in the carriage with very little to show for her summer season at the seaside. Mary was a good friend, and would dearly have loved to become more than a friend, but it was not to be, and Charlotte understood why.

Lady Worcester entered the room.

"Well, my darlings, you look absolutely ravishing," she beamed. "Peas in a pod."

Alison's features were softer than Charlotte's and her hair more tameable, but other than that, Susan was right. Over the last few months, Charlotte had lost some of her former radiance and her formerly enticing curves had all but disappeared, following months of poor appetite and over-exertion in the fresh air. Yet she was still very beautiful, even if there was a latent sadness in her eyes.

"Yes, that will most definitely do the trick," she purred, pinching Charlotte's cheek, to which rouge had been applied in an attempt to restore her colour. “Alison, could you go downstairs and wait for us a moment? I just need to have a word with Charlotte.” Alison nodded and disappeared.

“What is it?” asked Charlotte, puzzled.

Susan clasped her hands. “My dear, there is some very interesting news going around town. Word has it that Mr Sidney Parker...” She paused, noticing Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath, “Do not worry yourself, my child, the news is simply that he has left London and is on his way to the Indies.”

“To Antigua?” Charlotte’s eyes were wide.

Susan nodded. “Business calls him there. Apparently. He has taken his ward, as she will inherit the estate.”

“Georgiana?”

“Yes. However nobody knows how long he will be gone, it could be for up to a year...”

“So...?”

“Yes. His wedding has been postponed. Mrs Campion is most displeased. Not least because the rumour mill says that he is dragging his feet over their impending nuptials and is not the least unhappy to be heading to the other side of the world.”

A tumult of emotions flooded Charlotte’s brain. Shock, concern, maybe even a glimmer of hope.

“My goodness,” she exclaimed, incredulous, “A year? Anything could happen.”

“Precisely,” smiled Susan. “Anything could happen. However,” her expression turned more serious. “We must be careful with regards to you. Some people are saying – not many, but a few – that this delay, his reluctance, is because his heart lies elsewhere. We know your reputation is unimpeachable, but you need to be on your guard all the same. And... my dear, it would not be such a bad idea if you encouraged the attention of other gentlemen, at times you seem a little... distracted, a little unwilling to engage in conversation... I understand all too well that it will take time for your heart to heal, but we have a job to do.”

“I understand,” smiled Charlotte, “I will strive to do better. But if their wedding is postponed – what about Mrs Campion’s investment in Sanditon? Surely that will not be compromised?”

“I am sure it will not,” reassured Susan, “she would not like to be seen to go back on her word... unless...”

“Unless what?” frowned Charlotte.

“Never matter. Oh Charlotte, you have that befuddled look again. Do not worry yourself. The carriage is here, let us go and find your sister.” Lady Worcester shot her an inscrutable smile and the ladies set off for the ball.

_ Lady Marlborough’s residence, Mayfair – a few weeks later _

While Charlotte was delighted to have been singled out for Lady Susan’s attention and enjoyed her company greatly, she was beginning to find the endless round of society events rather tiring. Everywhere they went, they strove to raise interest in Sanditon, but their efforts appeared to be falling on deaf ears. As she remembered Sidney telling her at the rout they had attended last summer, people did not come to these gatherings to talk; they came to see and be seen. How she missed his pithy observations. When she had professed to him that she felt she did not belong in that kind of company, he had simply nodded and agreed that he felt the same; he was an outlier. Perhaps they both were.

As she stood at the side of the ballroom, awaiting a dance partner, she closed her eyes briefly. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost hear his voice, almost feel that he was there by her side, whispering those words in her ear. ‘Don’t doubt yourself. You’re more than equal to any woman here.’ She smiled to herself, trembling at the recollection of his words, the deep tone in which he had delivered them and the way his dark brown eyes had searched hers. In the space of a single day, they had gone from mistrust to comradeship, to admiration and, during their magical dance, perhaps to love. His words may well have been true, but she knew she was not cut out to be a mere society decoration, a lily of the valley; as she had once said to Arthur, she would rather toil, be it in Willingden, or in Sanditon, with Sidney by her side.

Yet there was always hope, and endeavour, and at least the postponement of Sidney’s wedding had given them some respite. She tried not to think about the potential consequences of the delay, and most especially she tried not to worry about what might happen to Sidney – and Georgiana – on their voyage or in the West Indies, but it was hard not to feel some anxiety on that score. She also missed Georgiana’s friendship and was saddened that they had parted on uneasy terms, divided over their assessment of Sidney’s conduct.

Alison, standing at her side, shook her abruptly out of her reverie. “Charlotte! There are some gentlemen approaching.”

Charlotte swiftly opened her eyes and put on her best smile. Alison was having the time of her life, dancing, drinking champagne and wine, being admired by an endless succession of gentlemen. Charlotte loved to dance too, but she knew full well that although the sisters were admired for their beauty and their charming innocence, the beau monde was well aware that neither of them had a fortune, so they were unlikely to receive any serious attention from suitors. The general opinion was that the younger sister was a sweet delight, but the elder, while more beautiful, was more of an enigma. Rumours had reached certain quarters of her alleged dalliance with Mr Sidney Parker, now the wealthy widow Mrs Campion’s betrothed, who had mysteriously vanished from London. Some members of the ton, however, whispered that the rumours came from Mrs Campion herself and were little more than sour grapes.

Charlotte allowed herself to be whirled around the dance floor by her partner, smiling by rote and engaging in superficial chatter, trying once more to divert the conversation towards Sanditon. Glancing across the ballroom, her heart began to pound and her palms began to perspire as she noticed someone observing her closely, her lip curled with disdain. Mrs Campion.

Then, much to her alarm, she saw another familiar face standing close to Mrs Campion, attempting to engage her in conversation. Eliza turned towards him, a simpering smile on her face, as a tall, elegant man with a shock of fair hair bowed and kissed her hand obsequiously. It was none other than Edward Denham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many stories have Charlotte going to London and being the belle of the ball - but she didn't really like London that much, did she? Perhaps we'll have to send her somewhere else...


	5. Return to Antigua – Carrington’s plantation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of two flashback chapters. Hard to write this kind of backstory and not really sure it's my story to tell. So - I have focused on Sidney's story and character and how he might have reacted to his surroundings. And in later chapters I'll try and imagine how Georgiana might have felt about her upbringing too. All historical inaccuracies are entirely my fault!
> 
> By the way - I haven't read that many S2 continuations since the beginning of this year, as I got sucked into modern AUs, so if I've nicked anyone else's ideas, it's not intentional!

_“You no think Massa, when you eat our sugar, you drink our blood?”  
_ Abolitionist pamphlet, 1826

As the long days on board ship passed by, Sidney lay idle on his bunk, his mind returning to the very first time he had sailed to Antigua, some eight years ago now, a mere stripling of 22, green around the ears and blissfully unaware of what awaited him on the other side of the ocean. How naïve and ignorant he had been. How totally unprepared for the life that was to follow…

*******************

The year was 1811. After a somewhat treacherous voyage across the ocean, during which Sidney most definitely acquired his sea legs, the sparkling blue isles of the West Indies came into view. Sidney was headed for a large sugar plantation in St John’s, Antigua, owned by a Mr Carrington. The first thing that hit him on stepping off the ship was the intense, burning heat of the sun. He had never known a heat like it; it felt like walking into a wall of steam, and there was no escape. The heat and humidity was a constant presence, making him feel sticky and irritable all day long; only at night time could he acquire some relief, and not always then. If the windows were left open, a horde of mosquitoes would swarm into the room, carriers of dangerous diseases. Occasionally, there would be a downpour of rain, heavier than anything he had ever experienced in England, often accompanied by strong winds. This would cool the air for a short time, but then the unrelenting heat would return with a vengeance.

A cart arrived to take him to the estate. As it trundled unsteadily along the dusty roads, Sidney looked out at the vast, arid landscape in front of him, passing acres and acres of what he presumed were sugar cane fields, populated by endless rows of workers, toiling away like black ants under the midday sun. He could hear the rhythmic threshing of their machetes and a faint hum, a melodic murmur, something like singing, but it was no song he had ever heard before.

The carriage drew up at a large white house, surrounded by brightly coloured vegetation of a kind he had never seen before, with a long front porch on which two ladies were sitting, fanning themselves and sipping lemonade. A short, stocky man, grizzled and unshaven and wearing a somewhat battered black hat, stepped forward to greet him.

“Mr Parker?” he enquired, somewhat gruffly.

“Mr Carrington?” asked Sidney.

The man guffawed with laughter, but it was not a friendly kind of laughter. “No, I ain’t Mr Carrington. You won’t see hide nor hair of him until he's finished his luncheon. I’m the overseer, Mr Patrick.”

“Overseer?”

“You don’t know what an overseer is?" Patrick's face expressed scornful incredulity.

“Yes, but I thought...”

“Quit talking and come inside. I’ll show you to your office and Betsy can show you your room.”

There was a lot to learn. Sidney had spent a few months working at the East India Company in Tower Wharf, which traded in spices and tea, but things were very different here. Mr Carrington, the plantation owner, was a portly, idle fellow, who spent most of his days riding round the estate, when he was not enjoying long, liquid lunches with his business associates. Sidney attended a few of these lunches, but it was quite apparent that not much business was actually transacted. The men – for it was mostly men, as the women, Mrs Carrington and her daughter Arabella, a few years younger than Sidney, were only permitted to stay for the meal and were then dismissed to sit on the veranda while the men smoked and drank port – the men spent most of their time complaining about their workers and bemoaning the fact that no new slaves could be brought over from West Africa, although there were rumours that an illicit trade was still practised in some parts.

Sidney was of course aware that the British slave trade had been abolished four years previously, but in his naivety, he had assumed that abolition would have improved the lot of the slaves on the island. In this, he was very wrong. Mr Carrington’s plantation was still entirely worked by slaves and their conditions had not altered one bit. It was Patrick’s job, as overseer, to manage the labourers and ensure they reached their daily quotas. Mr Carrington did not seem to care what happened to them as long as the expected amount of cane was harvested and the boiling houses were operated at a profit. It was Sidney’s job to manage the administrative side of the business and negotiate with the traders at the port, something that had clearly been neglected for some time. He spent his days poring over papers, waybills, lists of labourers and the quotas they had reached, and pages and pages of figures and accounts, until his head hurt and his bones ached. Mr Carrington would come along to check on his progress every so often, frequently flying into a rage if things were not to his liking or if the figures did not add up. Mrs Carrington, however, took pity on Sidney, and as the sun set over the horizon, would invite him to sit on the veranda with her and her daughter. Arabella was pretty enough, and Sidney sometimes wondered if the Carringtons were sizing him up as a future match for her, but he did not find her conversation particularly stimulating.

The overseer kept his distance, making it very clear that his domain was not Sidney’s territory. Sidney was puzzled, however, by the fact that the names and numbers in the list of quotas would go up and down randomly every month; sometimes the labourers would disappear for a while and then return, or not at all. One day, after he had been at the estate a week or two, Sidney went to enquire with Mr Carrington about these anomalies. As usual, Carrington was sampling a glass of port on the veranda in the intense afternoon heat, his wife and daughter having gone into town.

“Sir, I’m concerned that if we cannot keep the level of labour at a steady rate, we will not be able to fulfil the quotas and meet our orders…” began Sidney.

“Well…” drawled Carrington, leaning back in his chair and belching slightly, “It’s hard work you know and some of them only last a few years. Accidents are inevitable, and then Patrick has to keep them in order. I don’t like to interfere with his methods. Here he is, let’s ask him.”

Patrick was passing by at that moment on his horse and Carrington called him over. “Mr Parker wishes to know what happened to these labourers. It seems numbers are down and we may not fulfil our quotas.”

Patrick surveyed the list, puffing out his cheeks and raising an eyebrow. He prodded at the names with his fat, dirty finger.

“Lemme see… that one lost a limb in the mill, he’ll be out of action for a while, this one here, oh yes, she was flogged for insubordination… most insolent creature, but I think she’s learned her lesson now.” He gave a sardonic laugh.

“She?” interjected Sidney.

“Oh yes,” nodded Patrick, “the women can be the worst,” he replied with an ugly smile. “This one here, hmmm, that was… unfortunate, a vat spilled over in the boiling house, we had to put the poor dog out of his misery…” He observed the look of shock on Sidney’s face. “Look, we don’t kill ‘em anymore, it’s outlawed, more’s the pity, but this one wasn’t going to live more than a day or two… and lemme see, yes, another flogging there, he should be back in the fields by now, it was only 50 stripes, and this one… she had a piccaninny. Inconvenient, but it keeps the population up I guess.”

“Not one of yours I hope, Patrick,” winked Carrington.

“No, I don’t think so, sir,” smirked Patrick, showing the gaps in his teeth. “Anyways, I better be going, hope that’s answered your questions, Mr Parker.” He gave Sidney a short, insincere smile.

Sidney, shocked to the core, was unable to speak for several minutes. He had heard tales of this kind of treatment, but he had thought the change in the law would bring a measure of civilisation to the trade. He was clearly wrong. The view of the enslaved Africans as expendable cargo had changed little since the days of the _Zong_ slave ship, it seemed.

He turned to Carrington, narrowing his eyes. “What did you mean, one of his?” He thought the man would be offended at his directness, but Carrington only laughed, baring his yellowed teeth.

“Sometimes he and his men like to help themselves a little, you know. I wouldn’t recommend it, however, they can be trouble those ni… you seem shocked, Mr Parker.” He sniggered.

Sidney ran his finger round the back of his collar; it was soaked with sweat. He looked out at the scorched earth stretching out beyond the veranda. “It’s just… the way Patrick talks about those people…”

Carrington placed his hands on his sizeable stomach. “Mr Parker, they are not people. At least, not in the way you and I are people. They are my property, my chattel. They are here to do a job, no more, no less. There is a demand for sugar and our job is to meet that demand. If there’s an accident, we dispense with them. If they refuse to do as they’re told, we deal with them as we see fit.” He leaned forward, wagging his finger. “We have to be on our guard. There are more of them than there are of us. The last thing we want is what happened on Haiti – the French were no good at keeping control, and now the blacks rule themselves. Ridiculous. They will surely come to no good. The last uprising on this island was way back in the last century, and the culprits were executed on the breaking wheel. We know how to keep order here.” He sat back, satisfied.

“But…” began Sidney, “surely if the slaves are treated well, they will work better and your business will be more profitable…”

Carrington laughed scornfully. “They do not respond to kindness, Mr Parker. They respond to fear, to the whip, like dogs. But we operate fully within the law, and no one can say otherwise. Now, I think perhaps it’s time you went back to your work.” He picked up his newspaper and turned his head, dismissing him.

The following day, Sidney borrowed a horse and rode out to see for himself. Riding past field after field of half-naked men, women and children, old and young, women with babies on their backs, children as young as 8 or 9, toiling in the heat, planting and tilling. As he passed, a few looked up at him with blank expressions, stopping their singing for a moment; as he rode away, the singing got louder again, in an almost defiant hum. He rode out to the mills, where at harvest time, the men and women worked 18-hour days on the heavy, cumbersome machinery, in which their limbs were often trapped. Several of them were missing fingers, hands, or worse. And then the boiling house, where the stench and the heat hit his nostrils as soon as he entered, the vast vats of molasses constantly bubbling, like devils’ cauldrons, a mere splash enough to maim a man. The black, sticky liquid was then refined into a sugarloaf: a cone of pure white temptation. All this just to feed the sweet tooth of the English as they supped their tea.

He rode on to inspect the slaves’ living quarters: a motley collection of tumble-down wooden shacks, where the older women toiled to draw the water and keep the fires going for the meagre meals, keeping their eyes on the myriad of small children running around, some pure black, others much lighter-skinned, most dressed in rags. There was no education, no entertainment; Carrington provided the bare minimum of food and shelter. The slaves saw to their own medical care and buried their own dead.

Over the months that followed, Sidney witnessed many times the brutality of the overseer and his drivers, who shouted and screamed at the slaves, whipping them to make them work harder, flogging them when they were insolent or had not reached their quotas. On these occasions, he had to turn away, he could not bear it. He could not bear to think he was complicit in all this, that he was a part of this despicable business, this heinous trade that treated humans like animals, worse than animals in fact. Carrington’s dogs were better cared for and better fed, with their glossy coats and sharp white teeth. These people were pitiably unhealthy, sad and downcast, although at night he would often hear them chattering and laughing, singing and dancing, in an attempt to keep up their collective spirits.

Sidney took it upon himself to ride round the estate on a regular basis, to check on the overseer and his drivers, to ensure that they at least were complying with the law. He also frequently rode down to Nelson’s Dockyard to ensure that the requisite numbers of barrels were loaded on the ships, no pilfering took place, and that the slaves loading the ships were properly treated. More than once, he intervened when he observed particularly harsh treatment; sometimes Patrick would do as he said, at least until his back was turned; other times Patrick would bare his teeth and stand his ground. Patrick began to complain to Mr Carrington about him and Carrington often took Patrick’s side. Yet when Sidney insisted that his intentions were merely to protect their assets and keep their business going, Carrington found it hard to argue. A strained, tense atmosphere grew between the three men.

Sidney knew that even these meagre efforts were a mere drop in the ocean; he was tenured here for five years and he had no idea how he was going to withstand the ever-present shame, the guilt, the daily horror. So he turned to his old friends, his old demons. After his day’s work was finished, he rode into town and drowned himself in rum, blotting out all the sights and sounds and thoughts of the day. Oftentimes he took himself to the ramshackle brothel on the edge of town, where he would bury his sorrows in the bosoms of the cast-off mulatto women. He always paid them well, and some of them took pity on him and treated him with kindness, but he still felt that same bile of self-loathing rising in his throat the next morning. So instead he took up bare knuckle fighting to release his physical and mental frustrations, and discovered that he was very good at it. He usually won his bouts and came home with a bundle of coins in his pocket, but occasionally, if he had imbibed too much rum, he would falter and stumble, ending up face down in the dirt, pummelled and kicked, then slung back on his horse to ride home, bleeding from the temples. If he was lucky, his kind lady friends at the brothel would take him in and attempt to patch him up first. At breakfast the next morning, Mrs Carrington would purse her lips at the bruises on his face, leaving the room without engaging him in conversation. She stopped inviting him on to the veranda and she kept her daughter well away from him. He was no longer a promising catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The British slave trade was abolished in 1807 but the slaves in the Caribbean were not emancipated until 1833. Most of the native population of islands like Antigua (e.g. the Arawaks) had been wiped out by disease well before then. The first sugar plantation in St John’s, the capital, was Betty’s Hope, established in around 1674, which at one time had 400 slaves (owned by Codrington). Slave owners were permitted to kill their slaves until a law was passed against this in 1723 (although brutal treatment and cruel punishments continued). The most famous slave uprising on Antigua took place in 1736, when a slave known as Prince Klaas allegedly planned a rebellion against the slaveowners. He and four others were executed by the “breaking wheel” and many others were hanged or burned at the stake.  
> I suppose Antigua was chosen by the Sanditon writers because of the Austen connection in Mansfield Park. Thomas Bertram’s fortune comes from his estate in Antigua and he takes his son Tom there for a year when the estate runs into difficulty. Some of the dissolute parts of Sidney’s character are perhaps modelled on Tom Bertram, who ends up falling ill through drinking.  
> Nelson’s Dockyard is a real place in Antigua. Nelson was sent to the West Indies during the American War of Independence to protect the harbours and the sugar cargo. As well as being a national seafaring hero, Nelson was also a fierce defender of colonialism and an opponent of William Wilberforce...  
> The Zong slave ship was the mass killing of more than 130 enslaved Africans by the crew of the British slave ship Zong on and in the days following 29 November 1781. According to the crew, when the ship ran low on drinking water following navigational mistakes, the crew threw enslaved people overboard into the sea. It resulted in a very famous insurance case (ruled over by Lord Mansfield, the adoptive father of Dido Belle) but no one was ever tried for murder.  
> My children learned about this at school - I never did, I'm British and I don't remember doing ANYTHING about slavery at school, apart from when I studied the American Civil War. I live near a former naval dockyard in England and we have a car park named after John Hawkins - one of the "fathers" of the slave trade (surname Hawkins also used by JA in 'Emma' - Mrs Elton is the daughter of a Bristol slave trader). Discussions are still ongoing as to whether this car park will be renamed or not...
> 
> Haiti was formerly known as San Domingo or San Domingue - there was a slave revolt there that began in 1791, led by Toussaint L'Ouverture, a black army General. Haiti became independent in 1804, the first Caribbean island to shake off its colonial rulers, and France abolished its slave trade in 1794 (slavery being incompatible with the ideals of the French revolution), but Napoleon revoked this order in 1802.


	6. Return to Antigua - Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kind comments and sorry about the history lesson - I get very involved in these things once I start!  
> This is another flashback chapter in which Sidney's fortunes begin to look up. After that we'll go back to 1820 and see how Sidney and Georgiana get on, and how Charlotte's faring back in England.

Sidney had now been in Antigua nearly a year. He was a frequent visitor to the bars in St John’s, notorious for his drinking, gambling and fighting. Sometimes all three became entangled together and he would be unceremoniously thrown out of the bar at the night’s end, waking up the next morning with a pounding head and a nagging sense of regret. Somehow he stumbled through the day, executing his work mechanically, numbly, without thinking what the columns of figures or lists of names represented, before hitting the town once more as night fell.

On the nights when he was too ill, or too tired, or too battered to frequent St John’s, he would lie in his room, soaked in perspiration, attempting to quench his thirst and calm his raging headache, dreaming of Eliza. Eliza’s angelic face, her beautiful smile, her slender arms and neck, the soft rise and fall of her delicate bosom… but then he would remember her scornful looks, her thinly disguised disdain, her tittering laugh as she gently mocked him, often in front of their acquaintances… she had treated him like one of her toys, dangling him on the end of a string, teasing and provoking, knowing he would come running whenever she called… he would tire of her and turn his back, then all of a sudden, her countenance would change, she would become serious, loving, passionate even, caressing his face, telling him she loved him, drawing him back in… until that fateful day two years ago when he had learned – by letter, no less – of her engagement to Mr Campion. A letter in which she had returned his love notes, his most private missives, the small pieces of jewellery he had scrimped and saved to purchase for her. He had ridden round immediately to her house to demand an explanation, but she would not receive him. And so his long descent had begun… he had sailed to Antigua in a bid to forget her, but there was nothing here to replace her with, only misery and suffering, drink and debauchery… yet the memory of her was the only sweet memory he had to hold onto; even an imperfect past was better than his present hell.

One night, he was nursing his tumbler of rum, playing cards with some of the regulars at his favourite haunt, when Patrick entered the bar. That was no surprise; the overseer was also partial to strong drink. Usually, they studiously ignored each other, keeping their interactions strictly to the daytime, strictly business. Sidney was unable to conceal his disgust and dislike of the man, while Patrick thought him a jumped-up good-for-nothing. Still, not many young men from England were willing to make the voyage or could withstand the climate, and Sidney was not the worst they had had.

Tonight, however, Patrick too was deep in his cups and was in belligerent, taunting mode. The two men had had an altercation the previous day. Sidney was riding round the estate and, passing one of the fields, he saw Patrick grabbing a young negro girl by the hair and dragging her behind a bush, some distance from the cane field. The girl was no more than 10 or 11, but Sidney could be in no doubt of his purpose. He instantly saw red.

“Leave her!” he shouted, pulling on the reins of his horse to bring it to an abrupt stop. The horse reared its forelegs. Patrick turned round to regard him, fuming.

“What business is it of yours, Parker?”

“Come man, she is but a child! Let her go.” He dismounted his horse and towered over Patrick, who was shorter by at least a foot, but of stockier build.

An ugly smile spread across Patrick’s face. “The younger, the better. Don’t lead to no trouble, if you know what I mean.”

Sidney grabbed him by the shoulders. “Let her go,” he said with quiet menace.

Grunting, Patrick spat on the ground and released the girl. “Get back to the field!” he yelled. “Now!”

Terrified and confused, the young girl looked from one man to the other. Sidney tossed his head. “Go!” he urged her. The two men eyed each other warily but made no move. In silence, Sidney mounted his horse and rode off.

Now, in the smoky bar with its sawdust floor, Patrick was approaching him, red-eyed, swaying a little unsteadily.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr high-and-mighty Parker,” he sneered.

Sidney said nothing, shuffling his cards, staring directly ahead, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He had already consumed half a bottle of rum and his blood was up, but he knew it was best to stay calm.

“Think you’re so superior, with your fine and dandy English ways,” continued Patrick, jabbing his finger a little too close to Sidney’s face. “I know you where _you_ go when you’re finished here. Over to Ma Chambers’ house. You don’t mind trying the local wares there, do ya?”

Sidney looked up with disdain, removing his cigarette holder from his mouth. “That’s different. I pay those women. I pay them well. Although,” he smirked - he couldn’t help himself - “they have been known to waive their fee. They are quite happy to offer their services for nothing, to the right man of course.”

It was true. One particular woman - for Sidney only selected the women, eschewing the young girls, not due to any especial sense of morality, but because he favoured the older women, who knew what they were doing and in fact mothered him a little – one particular woman had laughingly suggested that she was quite happy to forego payment. “You are by far the finest man we ever had here,” she had whispered in his ear, as she pulled down his breeches. Sidney, however, had not followed up on her suggestion and had discreetly left some coins on the table as he departed.

Patrick spat on the floor in disgust. Sidney, his blood now fully roused, could not restrain himself. Jabbing his cigarette in the direction of Patrick’s face, he taunted him further. “Unlike you, Patrick, who has to whip them senseless to even look at your pathetic, withered cock...”

Patrick grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, his face mere inches away. Sidney could smell the strong liquor on his breath and see the specks of ash in his greying whiskers. “Say that again, Parker,” he hissed.

Sidney swallowed but he didn’t back down. “Your pathetic, withered...”

At that moment, Patrick swung back his right arm and punched him hard in the face, knocking his cigarette from his hand and causing his chair to tip backwards. Blood poured from Sidney’s nose. He sprang to his feet and launched himself at Patrick like a wild animal, hitting and kicking out randomly. The two men began to wrestle and fell to the ground, where the blood mixed in with the sawdust. A baying, drunken crowd gathered around them, cheering and shouting. Sidney had the advantage; sitting over Patrick, his fists raining down blindly on the man’s face. But he unwisely left a gap between them and Patrick used this gap to bring up his knee and swerve it sharply against Sidney’s most sensitive area. Clutching himself in pain, Sidney’s reflex was to roll off and within an instant, Patrick was on top of him. Suddenly the overseer withdrew something from his pocket; something shiny, cold and metallic. There was a collective gasp of shock from the crowd. Patrick held a knife to Sidney’s throat.

“I’ve just about had enough of you, Parker,” he growled, wild-eyed and yet curiously calm. “We don’t need your sort round here, preaching your morals and telling us what to do.”

Sidney’s eyes bulged with fear. “Please...” he stuttered.

Patrick did not respond. Laughing mockingly, he brought the knife even closer to Sidney’s bare skin. Sidney laid back on the ground and closed his eyes. Maybe it would be better after all. Maybe it would be a release. Maybe he had had enough of this world of cruelty and despair.

Suddenly, a commanding, unfamiliar voice called out, “Leave him be!” The crowd turned towards an imposing gentleman, standing in the doorway to the bar. “Patrick! Get off the floor this instant and leave that man alone!” he ordered.

Patrick turned around and, seeing who it was, slowly put his knife away in his pocket and raised himself up from the floor, shaking off the sawdust from his clothes. “I wasn’t going to do anything, your honour,” he pleaded, “I was merely...”

“That’s enough,” said the gentleman, striding towards Sidney and holding out his hand. “Get up, Mr Parker,” he said gruffly.

Sidney took the man’s hand and scrambled to his feet. His whole body was shaking and he could feel a warm trickle running down one leg. He regarded the man in the face. A tall, white man with greying hair and strong features. He had never seen him before in his life. “How... how do you know my name?” he asked in bewilderment.

“I make it my business to know everyone round here,” said the man, with an enigmatic smile. “After all, this island is only 12 miles long by 9 miles wide. I’m George Lambe. Justice of the Peace. I own a plantation over in St Mary’s. I suggest you come with me.”

And so began the next phase of Sidney’s life on the island. Mr Lambe escorted him carefully to his carriage and they travelled together to St Mary’s, a few miles away. He had Sidney patched up and cleaned and put to bed, and did not speak to him until the next day, when he had sobered up somewhat. Washed and dressed in neat, clean clothes, Sidney attended him in his office.

“Sit down,” said George, smiling but businesslike. “Listen, I’ve seen men like you here before. Usually end up drunkards or dead within a few years. But I’ve heard you’re good with figures and I’d like to offer you a role on my estate. It’s smaller than Carrington’s, but we make better money. So much money that I could do with some help managing it at times. I’m getting older and the days here are long. And the rewards for you will be good, I can guarantee that.”

Sidney frowned. “But what about Mr Carrington?”

“Oh, I’ll square things with him, don’t you worry. No use you going back there. He’ll never throw Patrick off his land.” He laughed sardonically. “Patrick knows too much.”

Sidney paused, looking down at his hands. “To be honest, Mr Lambe, I’m very grateful, but I’m not... I’m not so sure I’m suited to this life. Perhaps I should return to England.”

“With nothing to show for your trouble? Now listen boy, before I take you on, let me explain how we run things here, and what I expect.”

Mr Lambe proceeded to explain that on his plantation, the labourers, although still enslaved, were treated fairly; there were no floggings or whippings, unless absolutely necessary, their accommodation and food were more than adequate, and he provided some basic education for the children and even for the adults, if they wished to learn to read and write. Workers who performed particularly well and kept out of trouble were even paid a small sum of money every month that they could save for the future.

“For I have no doubt, Mr Parker,” said Mr Lambe, “that the days of slavery are numbered, and before long we will be transacting business with our labourers as freemen and women, not as chattel. I hold no position either way, but I am a pragmatist, and I wish to be ready. I have also found that my methods work well; if the men and women are well fed and looked after, they are more productive, and my profits remain stable. With regard to you,” he pointed his finger, “I will employ you here, but subject to certain conditions. I do not hold with drinking, gambling, fighting or whoring. We are a churchgoing household. There are many other things you can do with your time. Have you even explored the island? Have you ridden through its hills? Have you been to its coves, swum in its waters?”

“No, I confess I have not,” admitted Sidney.

“Then you should. So, shall we agree terms?”

Sidney nodded, raising his hands in surrender. “It is very generous of you, sir. And I am indeed most grateful that you came to my rescue last night. Otherwise, I don’t know what would have passed...”

“Yes,” nodded George. “Patrick is an unpredictable man. Carrington protects him. Good job I was doing my rounds.”

“Indeed.” The two men shook hands.

“So your family live here with you, sir?” enquired Sidney.

“My first wife, Susannah, sadly died many years ago. We were not blessed with children,” replied George. “But I have a daughter, by my second… wife. She too sadly passed away, but our child is the light of my life and the apple of my eye. Ah, here she is now.” He turned, beaming, towards a young, dark-skinned girl of about 12 or 13 who had just entered the room, seemingly oblivious of their presence. She was biting into a slice of pineapple.

“Who is this, papa?” She stopped dead in front of Sidney.

“This, my dear, is Mr Sidney Parker. He is going to work for us. Sidney, meet my daughter, Georgiana.”

Standing, Sidney held out his hand to the young lady. Smiling sweetly, yet eyeing him somewhat suspiciously, she shook it.


	7. Georgiana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We have no slaves at home - then why abroad?  
> And they themselves, once ferried o'er the wave  
> That parts us, are emancipate and loosed.  
> Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs  
> Receive our air, that moment they are free,  
> They touch our country and their shackles fall.”
> 
> The Task (1784) - William Cowper (one of Jane Austen's favourite poets!)

Seven years later, Sidney sat at dinner again, facing that same suspicious smile. They were now only a few days’ sail from Antigua and the waters had calmed considerably. Georgiana was fully recovered and eagerly anticipating her return home. She had been away from Antigua for nearly two years now, the longest two years of her life. For a brief period in London she had found happiness with Otis, but everywhere she went, she had been an object of curiosity at best, of fear and disgust at worst. Sidney had attempted to introduce her to London society and had singularly failed in the task. Everyone she met seemed most affronted that a woman of her birth should even presume to think herself equal to them, to sit at their table, and those that preened and flattered her only did so because of her fortune. Everywhere she went people muttered behind her back, “A negress! Who does she think she is?” Georgiana soon tired of explaining that her father was a white man, and she herself was not even a mulatto, she was a quadroon. It was all the same to them; she was still black, however light-skinned she might appear and however many thousands of pounds she had at her disposal.

When she met Otis, her life changed overnight, and not just because of his dashing good looks and the attention he bestowed upon her. She fell in love with his political ideals, the fire in his belly, his sense of right and wrong, as these matched the ideas she had been nurturing her whole life, encouraged a little by her father, and most certainly stimulated by the pain and suffering she knew existed on her native island, even if her father had kept her sheltered from its worst excesses. Otis and his friends spoke with disdain of the white man and the suffering he caused, and she came to see Sidney as yet another of those white men, plundering her island for his own benefit. Sidney might pretend to be a good man and declare he no longer had any truck with the sugar trade, but she knew him better than anyone. Years before Mr Lambe passed away, as she teetered on the cusp of womanhood, she had debated with her father and Sidney night after night at the dinner table about the rights and wrongs of freeing their slaves. After all, her mother had been a slave, and her mother’s mother before her. In exchange for her freedom, Georgiana’s mother, a house servant named Bathsheba, had agreed to Mr Lambe’s request and become his wife, a de facto wife at least, although she sadly passed away shortly after Georgiana's birth.

Eventually, one year before his death, George Lambe granted his slaves their freedom. Most remained working on his plantation for a wage, having little other choice; some left to make their own way in life, either by boarding a ship to England, where they would be treated as freemen, or eking out a living on the island. Georgiana was delighted by his actions but then appalled when, on her father’s death, she learned that Sidney Parker would be her guardian. Sidney had always argued vehemently against freeing the slaves, citing that there would be no one left to work the estate, that the balance of trade on the island would be disrupted, that Mr Lambe – and by extension Georgiana – would lose their fortune. It was true; they had lost some labourers and some of their profits, but Georgiana did not care. She still had more than enough money, and when the time came she would dispose of it as she wished. She knew full well what she would use it for: to better the lives of the slaves and former slaves and to support the Sons of Africa and the abolitionist movement.

But that man, Sidney Parker, would not allow her access to her money, he kept her in chains of bondage just as tight as any slave; he took her out of London and away from the only person who cared for her, dumping her unceremoniously in Sanditon, a dreary town where nothing ever happened, where the wind blew a gale and everyone treated her with derision, yet again. The only person to show her any kindness (apart from Arthur Parker, a kindly buffoon) had been Charlotte Heywood, and then Charlotte had fallen in love – a ridiculous notion! – with Sidney Parker. Poor, deluded girl, she had thought. If she even knew half of Sidney Parker’s past... Granted, Sidney had saved her from a fate worse than death – marriage to Mr Howard – and he had paid off Otis’ debts, but if he had not taken her away from London in the first place, none of that would have been necessary, surely.

Now, however, on board the Queen Charlotte, she was beginning to soften a little. There had been many long days, as she lay feeling nauseous on her bunk, in which to ponder over the past, the last year or so in England, her time in Sanditon, and her childhood in Antigua. Maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe she had judged Sidney too harshly. Well, he would have to prove himself these next few months in Antigua. Only time would tell.

“So Sidney,” she enquired somewhat mischievously, sipping her wine, “are you now finally in agreement with me? My father was right to free his slaves, was he not?”

Sidney mused, stroking his jaw. “It was the right, moral thing to do, yes. In business terms, perhaps not. But I respect his decision. However, if we are to keep the plantation operating at a profit, we need a manager and overseer of impeccable quality. Otherwise the estate will go to rack and ruin, there will be no cane left to harvest, and the labourers will have no work. That would not be a good outcome for anyone.”

“So why not stay, Sidney, and run it yourself? I will appoint you. At least that way you will escape the bonds of matrimony awaiting you in London,” she laughed.

Sidney smiled at her briefly then directed his gaze away, out to sea. “I do not wish to stay on the island, Georgiana. For some months or even a year, yes. But I have spent enough time in Antigua. There are things... people... that I would miss at home.”

“Just as I miss my home,” she replied. Then, brightening, “ _I_ could manage the estate! As soon as I am 21. That is less than a year away.”

“Georgiana, you cannot possibly... Firstly you are a woman, secondly you are young, and third...”

“I am black. Go on, say it. Why should that be an impediment? It is _my_ property, after all, nobody can argue with that.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

Sidney sighed. “You would be vulnerable to all kinds of pressure and danger, I’m afraid. At the very least, you would need a man to protect you.”

She was silent for a moment. “Maybe, one day, I will _not_ need a man to protect me. But, until that day, I believe I know of a man who would protect me... I’m sure he would be very eager to pay me a visit...” A small, mischievous smile escaped her lips.

Sidney regarded her, amused at her audacity and not for the first time. “We shall see, Georgiana, we shall see...”

A few days later, the Queen Charlotte docked in English Harbour and once again, Sidney stepped off the ship into the blinding, relentless heat of Antigua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t find any historical precedent for a slave owner freeing his slaves before emancipation (1833). However, I did find one slave owner on Jamaica, John Pinney, who reportedly treated his slaves fairly and without cruelty, largely because he saw them as economic assets who would work better if they were treated well.  
> White men taking advantage of female slaves on plantations is well documented. Whether Mr Lambe would have actually married Georgiana’s mother I doubt, but I like to think he treated her well at least. Thomas Thistlewood, a plantation owner on Jamaica, lived with his mixed race “wife” Phibbah for 33 years after granting her her freedom. However, he continued to have sexual encounters with other female slaves and wrote about it in detail in his diary (shudder).  
> Many, many mixed race children were born during the time of slavery and, at the time, mulatto was a word used to describe someone who had one black parent and one white parent. In Jane Austen’s Sanditon she refers to Miss Lambe (who is not given a first name) as “half mulatto”. Someone who was a quarter black was described as a quadroon.  
> Sons of Africa was a late 18th-century group in Britain that campaigned to end African chattel slavery. It was Britain's first black political organisation. Its members were educated Africans in London, included formerly enslaved men like Ottobah Cugoano, Olaudah Equiano and other leading members of London's black community. Can you believe that in the 19th century there were 15,000 black people living in London! Yet we hardly ever see them in period dramas…


	8. Camden Place, London, January 1820

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter back in England.  
> As I said before, this isn't really how I imagine Season 2 will play out on the screen, as the focus is on Antigua, and Sidney and Georgiana coming to terms with their past and making amends. Everyone's a bit sad and wistful in this story - but then the end of Series 1 was pretty sad for every character, apart from Esther and Babington. But I shall attempt to pull all the strands together if I can and try and cheer people up a bit!

Charlotte was in the breakfast room, rubbing her eyes wearily after yet another late night at a ball, yet another round of drinking and dancing, engaging in conversation with the brightest and best of London society. Heeding Susan’s words, she had made more of an effort of late and several gentlemen had shown a marked interest in her. She found them entertaining and witty, but that was all.

She had seen Mrs Campion on several more occasions, usually surrounded by a gaggle of sycophants, hanging off her every word, her barbs that dripped with wit and sarcasm. Charlotte had been the target of these barbs in the past, on the day of the Regatta, and had no wish to repeat the experience. Eliza had acknowledged her presence once or twice, but had not yet deigned to bestow her with any more than a curt “Miss Heywood,” and a nod.

On the previous evening, much to her delight, she had met the Babingtons. Esther, spying Charlotte, swooped towards her with a wide smile on her face and clasped her hands in friendship, remembering Charlotte's kindness to her at the midsummer ball when she had been so mortified by her stepbrother's public accusations. Although at one time, Charlotte had found Esther rather aloof and even intimidating, the events of the summer had revealed that the beautiful young redhead had a much softer core to her personality. Yet she still retained a sharp wit and direct manner of speaking that had unnerved some members of London society more than once, causing her husband to chuckle to himself at his wife’s forthrightness and ability to put people in their place. Esther did not suffer fools gladly.

"Charlotte! How wonderful to see you. We had no idea you were in town. Are you here for the season?"

"Yes, we are staying with Lady Worcester. This is my younger sister Alison. Alison, this is Lady Babington."

"Oh, no need to stand on ceremony, call me Esther," she beamed. "Lady Worcester? My goodness, you are moving in high circles these days. Charlotte, may I have a quiet word?”

Esther took her to one side and explained that her husband had met with Sidney before he sailed to Antigua and that, until that point, Babington had no idea of the grievous situation that Tom Parker had placed the family in or the real reason for Sidney’s sudden engagement to his former lover.

“Didn’t I tell you that man was a monomaniac, that he would ruin himself and his family? Not that I am happy to be proved right of course...” Esther rolled her eyes.

“I also remember you saying that Sidney was unreliable and unstable,” Charlotte pointed out. “Were you also right on that score?”

“Oh my dear, no,” replied Esther, patting her arm. “Perhaps I was a little over-hasty in my judgements. Poor Sidney is a victim of circumstance, of his brother’s utter incompetence. If only we had known... Babington and I were so busy arranging our wedding, travelling across Europe and... Oh,” she sighed in frustration, “Sidney can be so stubborn and secretive, so unwilling to accept the help of others...”

“If only we had had a little more time...” nodded Charlotte, “but unfortunately Lady Denham only gave us a week.”

“Yes,” agreed Esther sadly, “my aunt does not seem aware of the havoc she has wrought. I would very much like to give her a piece of my mind but... She has not been quite herself since last summer. I do not wish to upset her.”

There was a pause. “Esther...” began Charlotte, “do you intend to return to the country soon? You shall not stay long in London I think?”

“We return next week,” smiled Esther. “The dowager demands it and there are not many months until my confinement. Why do you ask?”

“Only... I have seen your brother. Here in London.” A sudden chill settled on the air.

“I have no brother,” replied Esther coldly. “He is dead to me. I shall soon be gone and I certainly have no wish to meet with him. Who was he bestowing his flattery on this time, I wonder?”

Charlotte blushed. “Actually he was with... Mrs Campion.”

Esther laughed gaily. “Well now, that is very interesting. Very interesting indeed.”

Charlotte was shocked. “Surely you are not suggesting...”

“Time will tell, Charlotte. He may be as poor as a church mouse, but he has a title remember.”

Esther drew nearer to Charlotte. “Do you know who else is in London?”

Charlotte shook her head.

“Clara Brereton!” Esther whispered in Charlotte’s ear, Charlotte letting out several gasps as she listened to a somewhat convoluted story.

“No, really?”

“Indeed. Babington says Crowe is most perturbed. Although what did he expect, honestly? The fool.”

“When will she...?”

“Ah, now _that_ is the interesting question,” smiled Esther. “We shall just have to wait and see.”

“I don’t understand it,” said Charlotte, a little befuddled. “And I can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. How on earth will she survive?”

“Oh my dear Charlotte, sometimes I think you are too good for this world,” said Esther, smiling. “If only everyone were like you.”

“I am far from perfect,” laughed Charlotte.

“I know one person who would disagree with that statement,” said Esther softly, stroking her hair. “And that person especially wished to be remembered to you before he set sail. He gave Babington strict instructions to look out for you in London, to make sure you are not the subject of any malicious gossip. Do you understand my meaning?”

Eyes wide, Charlotte nodded mutely, a sudden warmth running through her veins as she regarded Esther’s wily yet sympathetic smile.

Now, the following morning, she was sipping her tea in the breakfast room, pondering on Esther’s words. Could it be that he still thought of her? Could it be that he still had a hope that one day, fate might deal them a fairer hand? She had met many gentlemen in London these past few weeks, many handsome, intelligent, wealthy, eligible men, but none of them had stirred her blood in the same way, none of them had looked at her with the tenderness she had seen in his eyes, the admiration and respect he had shown her, the amusement they had shared, even the angry passion they had once exchanged: all these experiences had formed an unbreakable cord that was still tightly knit around her heart, never she feared, to be removed.

A maidservant entered the room, arousing her from her reverie.

“For you, miss. Urgent it says.”

Charlotte regarded the missive curiously. It was written in a familiar hand. Picking up Lady Worcester’s silver letter opener, she broke the seal.

_Sanditon, 10 January 1820._

_My dear Charlotte,_

_I write with particular urgency and in some distress. Mary has taken to her bed and has been very ill these past two weeks. Dr Fuchs says there is no immediate cause for alarm, but her spirits are very low and, if she is to rally, she will be in need of a friend. Indeed, we all are. I am at my wits’ end with the rebuilding, the workers’ demands, the banks, and of course the children. As you may have heard, Sidney has been recalled to the West Indies. Most inconvenient timing._

_In short, Mary is begging for your presence and your assistance. I sent word to Willingden, but they informed me you were in town. I am sorry to drag you away from the delights of the capital, but we would be forever grateful if you could come to attend on Mary and the children. Indeed, Mary has been low ever since your departure in the summer, but I am sure once you are here, things will be as right as rain. Please let me know forthwith if you are able to pay us a visit._

_Yours, etc._

_Thomas Parker_

Charlotte sat by the window, pensively looking out at the busy London street, listening to the sound of the horses’ hooves as the carriages rolled by. Although the contents of the letter distressed her greatly, equally she felt a strange sense of relief. To be back by the sea, breathing in the fresh breeze, watching the sand drift over the dunes, gazing up at the imposing cliffs. Too many memories, yes, but also the promise of new memories, new experiences, familiar faces, faces that were dear to her as they resembled the one she missed the most. A chance to breathe, a chance to see the colour return to her cheeks, a chance to live again, to be close to him and all the places he had been, the words he had spoken, the kisses they had shared. Charlotte rose from her chair and made her way to find Alison and Susan and impart her news.


	9. St Mary's, Antigua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney and Georgiana arrive in Antigua and are shocked at what they find, but they are beginning to make amends towards each other...

The cart took Sidney, Georgiana and Alice Crockett along the dusty tracks from English Harbour past Sugarloaf Hill and Boggy Peak* towards St Mary’s. For Sidney, it was his first time back in Antigua for over three years; for Georgiana, it was nearly two years since she had last seen her homeland. As Sidney looked out at the hazy hills on one side and the shimmering ocean on the other, it felt as if very little had changed since that fateful day nearly nine years ago when he had first stepped off the ship. But at least this time he was master of his own destiny; indeed, more than that, he was de facto master of George Lambe’s estate. A burden of heavy responsibility indeed, not least towards the labourers to whom Mr Lambe had granted their manumission*. In reality, their lives had altered hardly at all: Mr Lambe had always treated them well and provided them with decent accommodation, but now they were paid a wage and were free to leave the plantation or even leave the island, should they have the means to do so.

According to Sidney’s contacts, Roberts, the overseer he had appointed from London, had not upheld Mr Lambe’s wishes and had reverted to the old ways of cruelty and brutality that seemed to be ingrained in the island’s ruling class. Some of the “free” labourers had left the plantation already, but Sidney could not imagine they had gone far. It was a small island and there were very few alternatives to working the cane – what could they do apart from head for the hills or try to eke out a living on a patch of land with a couple of chickens and a few homegrown vegetables? His first task would be to remove Roberts and install someone else in his place – perhaps one of the former slaves themselves – and then send some men out into the surrounding countryside to see if they could persuade the other labourers to return. Reorganising the estate and the business would be an uphill task and Sidney was not sure how he was going to do it all on his own.

Georgiana hopped out excitedly from the cart and cantered up the steps of the house. Very few servants had been retained after Mr Lambe’s death: only one house servant and the cook, who had worked there for as long as anyone could remember. The house servant came forward to greet Georgiana, a startled look on her face.

“Dorcas!” she cried, embracing her, but Dorcas looked perturbed.

“Miss Georgiana,” she curtseyed.

Georgiana stood back, perplexed, staring at the servant’s protruding belly. “Where is Nell?” she asked, “Where’s my mammie?” Nell, the cook, had been Georgiana’s nursemaid and “mammie” for many years, as her own mother had endured a difficult childbirth and had not survived long after.

Dorcas wrung her hands on the cloth she was holding. “I’m afraid... she passed, Miss Georgiana. Some months ago now.”

Georgiana’s face crumpled. “No, no, it is not true!” she cried. “You’re lying to me. It cannot be true!”

Sidney came up the steps behind Georgiana. “What is it?” he asked sternly, his brow furrowed.

Mutely, Dorcas indicated into the corridor behind them. Sidney strode into the house and headed for the dining room. Four or five white men were seated around the table playing cards, with plates of food, bottles of liquor and dirty ashtrays littered all over the room. Sidney stood, hands on hips.

“Out! Out of here now!” he commanded. “Roberts, what the hell is going on? Why aren’t you in the fields?”

One of the men tried to stand, but had to hold onto the table as he was swaying so badly. His jaw dropped in shock. “Mr Parker... I can explain... we wasn’t expecting to see you, sir.”

“I have no need of your explanations,” spat Sidney. “You are no longer employed here, so you can get out now and take your snivelling friends with you. Now! Or I will call on the officers of the law to remove you by force. And take your liquor with you.”

Roberts and his cronies shuffled off, muttering to themselves. Sidney turned to Dorcas.

“Nell is dead?” he asked softly. She nodded. “And you…?” He pointed to her form.

She looked downcast. “I couldn’t stop him, sir...”

“I am sorry,” said Sidney quietly. “I should have returned in person after Mr Lambe’s death. Well, I am here now, and I will stay for as long as it takes.”

Georgiana meanwhile, sat on the steps weeping. “Come, Georgiana,” he said to her softly. But she ran past him into the house and up the stairs to her old bedroom. He did not see her again until that evening, when they shared a makeshift dinner, and it took some days before she was able to converse with him calmly. In the meantime, Sidney set about finding new servants to clear up and tend to the house and met with the remaining labourers to listen to their concerns, appointing one of the foremen, Ezekiel, as a temporary overseer. They were all relieved to see Mr Parker back at the helm and curious about their new mistress. Not many of them had known Georgiana when she was growing up; she had led a strange, protected life, halfway between the ruling class and the servant class. Her father had spoiled her but he had also kept her shielded from the harsh realities of life on the island. In her time in London, however, Georgiana had learned a considerable amount about the sugar trade and how it was produced. Her eyes had been opened and her views had radically changed.

She spent the best part of their first week on the island alone in her room, or wandering around the grounds, talking to Dorcas and reminiscing about Nell. Finally, she came to join Sidney one night as he sat on the veranda, smoking a cigarette and enjoying a small glass of wine.

“Sidney!” she said, surprised. “I thought you had given up that disgusting habit.”

He turned to regard her, noticing the smirk on her face. He was glad to see her playful teasing ways had returned.

“I did, during the summer", he nodded, but lately I have once more begun to find it a useful crutch. But not this,” he pointed to his glass of wine, “this I will keep under control for once. There is much to be done here, Georgiana, and I require a clear head.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She paused for a moment. “Sidney… Dorcas says that she is carrying Roberts’ child. That he… forced her…”

“Yes I know,” he replied. “Don’t worry, we will look after her, we will make sure she has everything she needs.”

“Did this happen when you were here?” she ventured nervously. “Did you ever…?”

“What?” he turned towards her, his eyes narrowing.

She looked down at her lap. “Sorry. I was thinking about my father… I always thought he was a good man, Sidney. Now I am not so sure.” She looked up, tears in her eyes. “I never even knew my mother. But I know she was a servant, like Dorcas.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, a circle of smoke curling into the warm night air. “Georgiana, your father was not perfect. Neither am I, far from it.” He smiled wryly, remembering a time when he had uttered those very words to a certain someone, “but I believe your father was a good man, in his way. Your mother agreed to be his wife, in name if not in law, and he gave her her freedom. What greater gift could there be? And he loved you very much, you know that.”

Georgiana was mute, processing his words.

“Georgiana,” he continued, crushing his cigarette on the floor with his foot and leaning forward, his hands on his knees, “This place, this trade – it brutalises people. Many fine men - and women - have fallen prey to their darker sides and done things they would never even conceive of doing at home in England. Your father was not perfect, but he was no brute. And he saved me from becoming a brute. I have done many things in my life I am not proud of, but I never… I never took a slave woman for myself.”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to the cicadas buzzing in the trees. Georgiana was still pensive.

“Sidney… why did you come out here – in the first place, I mean? All those years ago?”

“Ah! That.” He sat back, sipping his wine. “Yes, well perhaps now I can tell you… now that we are thousands of miles away from England…”

So he related the old story of Eliza and his heartbreak, his journey across the ocean and his rescue from Carrington’s plantation by Georgiana’s father, although he omitted some of the less salubrious details about his former vices and dissolute ways.

Georgiana was aghast. “That woman! And now you are… shackled to her, like a slave yourself.”

“A little melodramatic, Georgiana,” he laughed sardonically.

“Hardly! As I would have been to that disgusting pig Howard, had you not saved me.”

“Oh, so I finally get some gratitude for that, do I?” He raised an eyebrow.

If he could have seen through the darkness, he would have noticed her discomfort. “I am sorry. I should not say such things. Perhaps you still love her, after all.”

Sidney scoffed. “You have no need to apologise. I do _not_ love her. At one time, many years ago, I thought I did. But it was… an illusion, a dream, a way to forget the brutality and cruelty of what I had become, here on this island. In my mind’s eye, I created an ideal of the woman I wanted to love, but it is most certainly not her.”

“And did you find her? The woman you wanted to love?” Georgiana ventured timidly.

Sidney looked down at the ground. “I did. I was about to propose marriage, you know. My intentions were sincere. But… after the fire… we only had a week. One week! What choice did I have?” He shrugged.

“You say ‘we’, but it seems to me that it was all down to you, Sidney. What about your brother? And what about my money? Why not use some of that?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I will not touch a penny of your money. I will not let your inheritance become a poultice for my brother’s foolishness. Like it or not, this is the price I have to pay.” Agitated and upset, he stood up, ready to go inside, but Georgiana put her hand on his arm and stopped him.

“Wait. I am sorry I doubted you. One last question. Do you think… do you think Otis’ intentions were sincere?”

Sidney puffed out his cheeks, then smiled at a memory. “Well, according to Charlotte, he is a good man who made one terrible mistake.”

Georgiana smiled back. “Then Charlotte must be right. And Sidney – you are a good man too.”

“Thank you Georgiana. Good night.”

“Good night.”

They parted company.

The next morning, Sidney came down to breakfast to see Georgiana scribbling away at a letter. He peered over her shoulder. “Who are you writing to?”

She snatched the paper away. “No! You cannot look. I am writing to our particular friend.”

He poured his coffee and sat at the table, smiling. “Our particular friend?”

“Yes. I am just coming to the end and I should like to add a postscript, a little message. What do you think?” She pretended to write, her lips curling with amusement. “ _Sidney sends his warmest regards and urges me to tell you that he thinks of you night and day_.”

“No! You cannot say that. Think who might read it.”

“Very well. _Sidney sends his warmest regards and says that whatever happens, you have his heart and soul forever._ ”

“Georgiana…”

“ _Sidney sends his very warmest regards and hopes you are well._ Will that do?”

Sidney smiled indulgently. “Yes, Georgiana. That will do.”

Just then the new maid, Patsy, brought in the post. “A letter for you, Mr Parker,” she curtseyed, smiling. All the workers on the estate were smiling more now that Mr Parker and Miss Lambe had returned. The house was clean and bright once again, the servants sang as they worked, and the labourers were beginning to return to the fields.

Sidney regarded the letter and its London postmark. He knew very well whose hand that was. Sighing, he slit open the seal.

‘ _London, December 1819._

_My dear Sidney,_

_It is only two weeks since your departure and already life seems dreary and dull without you._

He laid down the letter. He was hungry and needed to eat before he could stomach that kind of overbearing sentiment. Once he had had his fill, he took a sip of coffee and picked up the letter again.

_Life in town continues much as before, but I simply cannot take any pleasure in these social occasions without you at my side._

Oh for god’s sake, woman, when did we ever have fun at a ball together?

_I have, however, made the acquaintance of several of your friends from Sanditon. I have seen Lord and Lady Babington, who were most delighted to see me again._

Sidney raised an eyebrow. Really?

_They will soon be leaving London for the country. Speaking of country, I have also seen that girl who looked after your brother’s children last summer – Haystack, was it? Or Haywood? Something of that nature._

Indeed.

_A quiet country mouse as I remember, and rather prone to plumpness, but I must say the town air – and the London tailors - have improved her looks and slimmed her figure, although her hair is still most unruly._

Sidney sighed. Plumpness. That was not the word he would have used. He afforded himself a small smile at the thought of that unruly hair, remembering the day on the clifftops when she had allowed him to run his hands through it. It had felt like silk in his hands and then her mouth – her plump mouth, so sweet with promise and warm with passion. Her arms clasped around his neck, his hands around her waist, the feel of her soft body… he shook himself.

_Much to my surprise, she is attracting a great deal of attention wherever she goes, and the word is that she and her sister already have several eligible suitors lined up. Of course, neither girl has a penny to her name, but many foolish young men are willing to fall at the feet of what they perceive to be beauty and innocence. I am sure they will have secured an advantageous match before the season is out._

_Speaking of marriage, I am arranging another date for our own wedding. I am thinking August or September at the latest, so please write to me by return, my darling, and let me know that you are well and settled in Antigua and that everything will be sorted out swiftly so that you can sail back to me and to our future…’_

Sidney laid down the letter. The sun had not long risen but already the day promised to be scorching and perspiration was now dripping down his brow and at the back of his neck, that familiar uncomfortable feeling. Eliza certainly knew how to twist the knife. She was well aware of his attraction to Charlotte, if not his love. He had it made it quite clear after the Regatta that he wished to remain in Sanditon, and she could not have been in any doubt as to the reason, even if he had not explicitly referred to it. Eliza had seen them in the boat, and she had watched, aghast, as he ran after Charlotte in the tent, so concerned for her feelings and ashamed at his cowardice.

But what if her words were true? He had no doubt that men would be drawn to Charlotte, to her beauty, her lively conversation, her sweet nature. Maybe she would indeed find someone worthy of her. Maybe he was being foolish, allowing himself to be encouraged by Georgiana’s childish games.

He looked up. “Georgiana… can I ask you something?”

“Yes of course,” she smiled, buttering her toast.

“Did… did Charlotte ever say anything to you? About her… feelings for me?”

Georgiana bit into her toast, pondering. “Well, not exactly. But I accused her of being in love with you. And she did not deny it.” She smiled mischievously.

“Thank you.” Sidney looked out of the window at the fields in the distance. It was a hopeless situation all round. She may have loved him, she may even still love him, but he was not a free man. Still, there was a lot of work to do. More than enough work to keep him occupied for quite some time. Certainly no chance of returning to London for many, many months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are lots of "missing gaps" in Georgiana's story. I was always a little disappointed that she was portrayed so negatively towards the end of the series. There's much more to her than being a lovesick teenage girl, in my opinion :)
> 
> *English Harbour, Sugarloaf Hill and Boggy Peak are real places. The name Boggy Peak originated from slave masters telling stories about the dangers of the Boogie Man who took spirits and lived up in the mountains. This was to discourage slaves from escaping and running into the mountains. Runaways were able to make their own settlements in the mountains and live out their lives away from enslavement. In 2009 Boggy Peak, Antigua's highest point, was renamed Mount Obama to honour Barack Obama and recognize him as a symbol of black achievement, although the name was changed back in 2016.
> 
> *manumission refers to giving slaves their freedom. I didn't know this word until recently!


	10. Return to Sanditon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in England... January-February 1820

_I own I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves,_  
_And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves;_  
_What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and groans_  
_Is almost enough to draw pity from stones._  
_I pity them greatly, but I must be mum,_  
_For how could we do without sugar and rum?_  
_Especially sugar, so needful we see?_  
_What? give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea!_

**Pity for Poor Africans (1788) - William Cowper**

Charlotte peered out of the window of the coach at the familiar skyline in front of her. It was nearly nine months since she had first set foot in Sanditon. As the carriage rolled over the cliffs, the sea, the shoreline and the distant town all looked exactly as she remembered it. Passing that fateful spot on the clifftops where she had said her last goodbyes – or what she thought were her last goodbyes - to the one she had loved and lost, she felt a lump rise in her throat. The coach was now very near to the selfsame spot where they had had their first – and last - embrace; tentative and yet in some ways very bold. It was the first time she had ever been kissed by a man and yet there had been nothing awkward about it; it all felt as natural as breathing. Indeed, she had surprised herself by wrapping her arms around his neck and responding with passion. She trusted him; she knew that his intentions were good and that he too was only responding to an unavoidable, inevitable, natural need to be close to her. Prior to the kiss, he had been so reticent, shy even; it had amused her. Afterwards, he had held her hand and walked her back to town, barely knowing what to say. “I shall see you at the ball tonight,” he had said, smiling at her tenderly as he squeezed her hand. “Save me a dance.”

“Of course,” she had replied, but then a mutual acquaintance had passed by and he had nodded and disappeared, leaving her at the door of the draper’s shop, before she could ask which dance he meant. If only... if only he had been a little bolder, a little more decisive, if only he had claimed her hand as soon as she entered the ballroom, if only Tom, and then Mary, had not interrupted. She had felt obliged to humour Mr Stringer; indeed, she liked Mr Stringer well, but had only recently become aware of his growing attachment to her and was slightly ashamed at the thought that she might have encouraged it unwittingly. So she had graced him with the first set; looking out for Sidney as she did so, who smiled at her tenderly and knowingly from the sidelines. Towards the end of the set, he had caught her on the edge of the quartet and, leaning towards her ear, had whispered in his deep, quiet tones, “Meet me on the balcony.” Those words, and the feel of his hot breath against her neck, had sent shivers right through her.

As soon as she could, she had breathlessly made her way upstairs, where he had seized her hands with joy and relief. She knew all too well what he was going to ask her, but part of her could not really credit it. She could not quite believe that she was about to betroth herself to a man that, in truth, she knew very little about, but even so, she knew full well that she would say yes. There was an instinct deep inside her urging her on, telling her that whatever remained for her to discover about this complex, contradictory man would not be a disappointment. He was willing to lay himself bare, he was willing to be his truest self with her, and she would let him. And then... everything had gone wrong, dramatically wrong, melodramatically wrong. A few days later, he had left for London, promising to return with good news in a week. And he had. Good news for everyone, except for Charlotte. Looking into his eyes through her own tear-filled orbs, she could also see that it was not good news for him. But there was nothing to be done.

Now – perhaps – they had a reprieve, for a short time at least. And now she was back in Sanditon. Charlotte alighted from the coach and looked up at Trafalgar House, perhaps a little less imposing than the first time she had seen it, given the splendour of the some of the residences she had visited in London. Lady Susan had been loath to part with her, but her friend was aware of her occasional unease and of the melancholy that sometimes descended on her. Alison, her heart still intact and unbruised, would be a better, more cheerful companion for Lady Susan this winter, and their parents were happy to let her remain in the capital for a short time. Perhaps she would even find a husband before the spring. Charlotte had been courted in London by many a gentleman, but had encouraged none. She was beginning to think that even without her heart belonging to Sidney, she would much rather remain a spinster.

The door of Trafalgar House opened wide and a maidservant ushered them in. It was strange not to be greeted by Mary’s kindly face and wide smile. Tom, however, was in the drawing room, pacing around as usual, deep in thought.

“Charlotte!” he called, his face suddenly breaking into a smile, his arms outstretched. “How wonderful to see you again. You are looking so well, my dear.”

Charlotte was well aware that this was not the case; she had most certainly lost weight since the summer and the roses had gone from her cheeks, but Tom had never been an observant man. Yet despite his faults, his blundering and his blindness, she could not but help warm to him. She was shown up to her room and then immediately brought down for tea, but as Tom waxed and waned about the rebuilding and how well it was going, and how many visitors they were expecting in the summer, she began to grow a little restless.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked, finally becoming aware of her discomfort.

Charlotte knew that with Tom, it paid to be as direct as possible. “Mary.... is she well? Where is she?”

Tom regarded her as if he had quite forgotten who Mary was. “Yes of course. She keeps to her room. I’m afraid we cannot even let the children see her more than once a day, they bring on her headaches...” he trailed off sadly.

“And what ails her? What does Dr Fuchs say?”

Tom spread his hands in exasperation. “He is at a loss. She is lacking in energy, in spirits... it may be her time of life...”

“Where are the children?” asked Charlotte, a little impatiently.

“Oh um...” Tom looked unsure. “With the nursemaid I expect... I will take you to Mary presently. I suppose you have heard about my brother?” He cocked his head. “Returned to the Indies! Most inconvenient timing, just when we are expecting an influx of visitors...”

“Well, it cannot be helped,” replied Charlotte, “he has other commitments.”

“Yes, but his wedding is postponed. I only hope this does not affect his lovely bride’s investment.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “Please Mr Parker, may I be taken to Mary? I am most anxious to see her.”

“Of course, of course...” Tom bustled her out of the room and called a servant, who took her to a room on the top floor.

Charlotte entered the bedroom tentatively. It was dark inside and the drapes were drawn. She could just espy a pale moon of a visage lying against the pillow, surrounded by a golden halo of hair.

“She scarcely moves from morn to night, m’dear,” said the maidservant quietly. “Yet the physician swears there is nothing wrong with her. Except for them headaches.”

Charlotte approached the bed on soft feet, bending over the immobile form resting there.

“Mary,” she said softly. Mary opened her eyes.

“Charlotte,” she croaked. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. “Oh Charlotte, I am so happy you have come.”

Leaning down, Charlotte embraced her gently. “And I am glad to see you, dear, dear Mary.”

Over the days that followed, Charlotte settled into life at Trafalgar House. The routine was much as before, and yet vastly different without Mary’s benign, bustling presence at the breakfast table, chivvying along the children, organising the servants. Tom seemed to float around in a state of distracted confusion, poring over his plans, gazing at the model of Sanditon that still occupied pride of place in his office, making the occasional foray onto the building site to check progress. Charlotte took one look at the mound of disordered papers on his desk and sighed. Clearly things had not altered. She soon made herself invaluable once again: sorting out Tom’s paperwork, organising the servants, taking charge of the children to give the nursemaid a rest, and of course attending on Mary.

At first, Mary was very weak and not inclined to converse, but after a few days, Charlotte finally managed to get her to eat some hot broth, which revivified her a little. Mary ate about half of it and then sank back onto the pillows, her brow warm with perspiration. Charlotte passed her a glass of water and held her hand.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Charlotte,” Mary whispered. “It all came over me suddenly, one day a few weeks ago. I had this blinding headache and so I laid down in a darkened room and then I felt as if I could not get up again. So many thoughts crowded my mind... Tom hustles and bustles here and there, ordering people about, causing things to be done, but what is it all for?” A tear trickled down her cheek.

Charlotte patted her hand. “He is simply trying to leave his mark on the world, Mary. To revive the fortunes of the town.”

“But for what purpose?” asked Mary, a little sharply. “A man lost his life, we faced financial ruin, Sidney... Sidney was forced to betroth himself to a woman he does not love, and you...” She broke down again.

“Do not concern yourself with me, Mary...”

“But I do, Charlotte. I was all too aware that you and Sidney had formed an attachment, and I did nothing. I said nothing.”

“Sssh Mary, it was not your fault...”

“And my husband is so blind!” She gripped the bed covers in frustration. “That is the worst thing. Sometimes I wonder if I know him at all.”

Charlotte was shocked. She had never seen Mary so distressed. She made it her business to revive Mary’s spirits and endeavour to get her outdoors, active and busy once more. In a bid to distract her from her woes, she told her many tales of the grand balls she had attended in London and what a fine time she had enjoyed, how flattered she had been by the attention of so many gentlemen and how eager people had been to hear about Sanditon and its charms; she was sure they would have many more visitors, and perhaps even investors, by the summer. After a week or so, she was successful at getting Mary to venture outdoors for a short walk on the beach with the children, and gradually these outings became more frequent. Mary began to take meals with the household again and involve herself in the running of its affairs. And yet there was still a strained atmosphere between her and Tom, but here Charlotte could not intervene; it was not her business to pry into the workings of a marriage.

No sooner was Mary up and about than Lady Denham decided it was her turn to avail herself of Charlotte’s services. As Esther had told her, Lady Denham was now very much alone and growing tired of her own company; she even missed Clara, she said. She had always rather liked that headstrong young Heywood girl and Charlotte now found herself obliged to call on her most days, although the great lady was a little displeased to discover that Charlotte’s pianoforte skills were no better than Esther’s. But she was a good match at a game of cards, and a good source of gossip. Charlotte was careful, however, not to give too much away; she was unsure how much Lady Denham really knew about the lightning quick turn in Tom’s fortunes that had occurred at the end of the summer.

One day, they were playing a hand of whist, when Lady Denham began to quiz her on a topic rather too close to her heart.

“So, I see Mr Sidney Parker’s wedding is postponed while he jaunts around the Indies?” she sniffed, somewhat disparagingly.

“I believe he has urgent business there, ma’am,” replied Charlotte, neutrally. “He has taken his ward with him, to manage her late father’s estate.”

“Oh yes, that insolent girl,” huffed Lady Denham. “Well, Sanditon is duller without her and her exotic charms, all the same. It is very dull these days, do you not find?”

Charlotte paused. “It is winter, ma’am. I’m sure the town’s fortunes will revive come the summer, when the rebuilding is complete. Mr Parker is working very hard to ensure it.”

“Mr Tom Parker, or Mr Sidney Parker?” enquired the old lady, her laser-like eyes boring into Charlotte. “For it is the latter who has secured the funds, is it not, by his betrothal to that wealthy widow?”

“Does it matter how it came about, as long as the funds are there?” Charlotte’s hand was trembling a little as she placed her card on the table.

“Hmm...” said Lady Denham, eyeing her carefully. “I fear you had some disappointment on that score.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” replied Charlotte, without returning her gaze.

“Yes, you do. Never mind, there are plenty more fish in the sea. I’m sure you will catch one.”

Charlotte looked up, her chin raised somewhat defiantly. “If you are referring to matrimony, Lady Denham, I have told you many times that I am not interested in catching a husband. I would rather stay a spinster than marry a man I did not care for.”

“I see,” sniffed the old lady, sighing, “I see very well how it is. Still maintaining your independence. Tea?”

Charlotte poured the tea. Lady Denham scooped three large spoonfuls of sugar into her cup, then offered Charlotte the sugar bowl, which she refused.

“What’s the matter with you? Not one of these anti-saccharites* or whatever they call them?”

Charlotte coloured a little. “I confess I have been taking less sugar since Miss Lambe made me aware of its… origins.”

Lady Denham sniffed. “Poppycock. Business is business. Your hand, my dear.”

In between caring for Mary, looking after the children, organising the servants, sorting out Tom’s paperwork and paying social calls on Lady Denham, Charlotte found she had very little time for herself. Indeed, this was not a bad thing, as by the end of the day she was worn out and would collapse happily into bed, falling instantly asleep. The only respite she had from her round of daily duties was the occasional stroll on the beach with Mr Stringer, usually at the day’s end when he had finished his work on the site, just as the sun was setting. On their first meeting since her return, he had appeared bashful, hesitant as to how to greet her, knowing that he had perhaps overstepped the mark the last time they had seen each other when he bade her goodbye. Yet on meeting Charlotte again, with her frank, happy air and her uncritical demeanour, he instantly relaxed and felt once more that easy sense of contentment in her presence.

They spent many happy hours together walking and talking; she would ask about the progress of the rebuilding, his plans for the future and how he was coping at home since the death of his father. He poured out his heart to her about his guilt, his sadness and his thwarted plans, and his occasional frustrations with Mr Tom, although he had to admit that he welcomed the provisions of new tools, the new labourers and the fact that the workers’ wages were now paid on time. Charlotte was pleased that what Mary had referred to as Sidney’s “sacrifice” had wrought such good in the town, paying the men’s wages and feeding their families. She did not say as much to Mr Stringer, however. For his part, he questioned her little on her own activities since their last meeting, yet he could see how pinched and pale she looked, how tired she was at the day’s end, although to him she was as beautiful as ever. He longed to tell her so, but held back. Then one day, he too questioned her on the matter of Sidney Parker and the postponement of his nuptials. Charlotte replied with the same neutral answer that she had given to Lady Denham.

There was a pause as James considered whether to say what was on his mind. Then he took the plunge.

“I hope you have recovered somewhat from your... disappointment, Charlotte. I hope you do not mind me saying, but he treated you very ill.”

Charlotte had always borne these comments with fortitude but today, for some reason, his accusation cut her to the quick and she turned to him, irritated, hot tears threatening to spill.

“Mr Stringer,” she said pointedly, recalling that she had never actually given him permission to address her by her first name, “I beg you not to think ill of him. He did what had to be done and I perfectly understand his reasons, even if others do not.” She began to walk away from him up the beach, to hide her distress.

James ran after her. “Forgive me, Miss Heywood, but I do not understand your meaning...”

Charlotte looked out to sea, then faced him again, and said quietly, “Who do you think pays your wages? Where do you think the new labourers and the new equipment come from?” She looked out over the horizon once more.

James swallowed. “Surely, you do not mean...?”

“I have said too much.” Charlotte lowered her head. “We will not speak of it again. I trust you will not repeat my words.”

“Of course, Miss Heywood,” he replied contritely, and they walked in silence back to town, a thousand thoughts filling James’ head as they did so. Of course. It all made sense. How could he have been so blind?

*************************************

A few days later, Charlotte was sitting at breakfast with Mary and the children, when Tom came in bearing the day’s post.

“My goodness, a letter from Antigua!” he exclaimed, “I think it has had quite the journey, look how browned the edges are.” He frowned. “It is addressed to Charlotte. It must have come via London.”

He handed the missive to Charlotte, grumbling as he did so. “I had hoped to hear from Sidney by now... I shall have to write to him...”

Charlotte exclaimed with delight. “Oh, it must be from Georgiana! What a surprise.”

“What does she say, Charlotte?” asked Mary.

Charlotte swiftly read the contents of the letter to herself:

_‘St Mary’s, Antigua, 2 January 1820._

_My dear Charlotte,_

_We are finally arrived in Antigua after the most tedious voyage imaginable. The winds were very strong and I was confined to my quarters for a large part of the crossing, unable to eat and frequently sick. Mr Parker fared a little better and we shared some meals together, once I had recovered. Indeed, my infernal guardian appears to have improved somewhat in his manner towards me; he is almost obliging, almost willing to listen to what I have to say._

_I cannot tell you how delighted I am to be home, and yet there is much to be done. We have dismissed the estate manager and until we find a replacement, we are managing affairs ourselves. I say ‘we’, meaning myself and Sidney. I have managed to persuade him that I wish to be involved in the management of my own fortune and that after I turn 21, I fully intend to oversee the management of the plantation and ensure that my father’s wishes are carried out to the letter. As you well know, a certain gentleman is presently on a ship rounding the Americas, and I am hopeful that once his indenture is at an end, he may be able to join us on the island. My greatest wish would be to work with him to ensure the emancipation of all the slaves in the Indies. Surely that day cannot be long in coming. I know you support us in these ideals, my dear Charlotte, and I am beginning to think that even Sidney agrees with me, deep down. But he is a hard-headed man of business, and as he says, we first need to ensure that our own labourers are well managed and their livelihoods are secure._

_We are however in need of help in this task, so Sidney is making enquiries in England to see if he can find a suitable young man. Do let us know if you have anyone to recommend for the post. To be taken seriously by the other plantation owners and traders in this place, it is firstly necessary to be a man, and secondly to be a white man, so I am at a double disadvantage. But they cannot argue with my status or my wealth, and one day soon they will see what I am made of._

_It is beautiful here, Charlotte. The skies are an endless blue, the seas a blazing turquoise and the grains of sand are pure white. I wish I could show it all to you one day._

_One last word: I fear I judged you harshly when we last met. Please forgive me; I was made bitter by my own disappointment and I was not generous enough to understand yours. I hope you are having a fine old time in London - I’m sure you are the belle of the ball wherever you go._

_Write to me soon._

_Your dearest friend,_

_Georgiana._

_P.S. Sidney sends you his very warmest regards and hopes you are well.’_

“What does she say Charlotte?” urged Tom.

Charlotte looked up. “Only that they are safely arrived in Antigua and that there is a lot of work to be done. They are in need of a new estate manager and are seeking someone from England.” She frowned, pondering.

“That is all?” asked Tom. “She does not say when they will return?”

“Tom, they have only just arrived!” laughed Mary.

“No,” replied Charlotte. “But it appears that Georgiana has very little intention of returning to England. She makes no mention of your brother in that regard.”

Tom let out a heavy sigh. “He must return before the summer. If we were to procure the patronage of the new King, that would put the seal on our success. I need him to...”

“Tom,” cut in Mary, “if you wish to spread the reputation of Sanditon at the court of George IV, why not go to London and do it yourself? Why always rely on Sidney and his connections?”

Tom looked shocked at Mary’s intervention and indeed Mary looked quite shocked herself.

Charlotte, meanwhile, was busy rereading her letter, most specifically the very last line. ‘ _Sidney sends you his very warmest regards and hopes you are well_.’ She smiled happily to herself. She would have to send her warmest regards back to him, via Georgiana of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it’s time Georgiana “acted as a go-between", don’t you? I'm assuming it would be beyond the bounds of propriety for Charlotte and Sidney to correspond. There are going to be a few letters back and forth - I might have to bend artistic licence when it comes to timings! The voyage can take 3-6 weeks. Hard to imagine that it could take months to hear from a loved one. The story would be much easier if they all had WhatsApp!
> 
> *Anti-saccharites: From the very beginning women played a vital role in the abolition movement. The early boycotts (although the word boycott was not invented then) were aimed chiefly at women who controlled the domestic budget. Queen Charlotte herself was a keen supporter of the 'Anti-Saccharite cause'. All over the country Ladies' Associations were set up to promote the campaign.  
> Britain's annual per capita consumption of sugar was 4lbs in 1700 and had increased to 18lbs by 1800. (In 2002 it was 65 lbs!)
> 
> As you undoubtedly know, George III died on 29 January 1820 and George IV – the Prince Regent - became King. That would make Season 2 interesting if he made an appearance!


	11. Antigua – Making amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in Antigua... Sidney gets a chance to redeem himself for his past behaviour.

Since that night on the veranda, Georgiana and Sidney had settled into an easy familiarity and Sidney began to regard her a little like the younger sister he had never had. Her time in England and her voyage across the seas had matured her somewhat. The things she had learned about slavery from Otis and the brutal shock of discovering how Roberts had been running the plantation since her departure had opened her eyes to the harsh realities of the colonial way of life. She was more than a little troubled about her place in the whole system, and Sidney could sense her processing a multitude of thoughts and feelings, sparked by what she saw around her every day.

He, too, took time to try and understand what she was experiencing, berating himself for his past behaviour towards her. She was an orphan like himself, after all, but now twice over since she had learned of the death of her “mammie”. When he had been informed of George Lambe’s death and the provisions in his will, he had groaned inwardly. He had known Georgiana for many years of course, but he had always viewed her as a spoiled, slightly irritating child. He was well settled in his London life by then and had no inclination to have his carefree yet busy existence disrupted by such a burden of responsibility, nor did he have any wish to be reminded of his dark years in Antigua. She was young, she was naïve, she was foolish, she was unbelievably headstrong and unfortunately she was prey to fortune hunters. He did not know Otis personally, but he was well aware that he frequented some of the same gambling dens that he himself occasionally still visited. He was certainly not the kind of match that George Lambe would have intended for his only daughter. So he had removed her from London to the relative safety of the Sussex coast and hoped to hear no more of her than was necessary. How wrong he had been.

Charlotte, of course, had been quick to point out how remiss and unfeeling he had been towards her and, although he bridled at her accusations, he knew that deep down she was right. Of course she was right, as she was right about so many things. That too, made him sad. Eliza could not care less about Georgiana; she was in fact ashamed of her origins and did not wish to admit her to society. To Charlotte, such things were not important: she took people at face value and, quite simply, she cared.

Now, however, Sidney was beginning to warm towards his unusual “younger sister”; she could still be exceptionally irritating, but she was bright, she was determined, and most of all she was funny. In the daytime, she was keen to learn all about the plantation and how it worked, while in the evening she would often join him on the veranda and they would converse about the old times and about her father. Since that first night, however, he had avoided the subject of Charlotte - it was too painful - and she rarely mentioned Otis. Sidney was not sure whether her infatuation with Otis was mere puppy love or something deeper, but they both knew that even while they were joking together and sharing memories, they were thinking of another.

One day he took Georgiana to the trading house in St John’s where the barrels of raw sugar were bought and sold before being shipped to England to be refined. Sidney had been reluctant to bring her out into the wider world; throughout her childhood she had not ventured far from her father’s estate and he knew all too well how the white merchants would regard her. But Georgiana was proud and headstrong and she insisted on learning every aspect of her father’s business. As they entered the trading house, every head turned and the whispering began. Sidney looked sideways at Georgiana and he could see her hackles rising.

“Stay calm,” he commanded quietly. “Just follow me.”

He approached a group of plantation owners and merchants who were busy inspecting some samples.

“Ah, Mr Parker,” said one of them, with a measure of civility. “We did not expect to see you here again.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Good morning, Mr Reynolds. I am accompanying Miss Lambe, my ward,” replied Sidney in a firm but friendly tone. “Daughter of the late George Lambe. We are here to… resolve some matters on the plantation.”

“By yourselves?” asked Reynolds in surprise.

“For now, but we are seeking men to join us from England. We had to dismiss Roberts.”

“Oh yes, I heard about that. He was a bad’un,” sniffed Reynolds. “You know that old Carrington died, I suppose?”

“No I was not aware of that fact,” said Sidney through gritted teeth.

“His daughter Arabella has come into the estate. She was married but her husband died of the fever, so now it is all hers. Although I do not see how a woman… ah, here she is, Mrs Norris, you remember Mr Parker of course?”

“I do,” replied Arabella coldly. Sidney would not have recognised her. Her features were pinched and drawn and she had lost much of her youthful bloom.

“Arabella,” nodded Sidney.

“Mrs Norris to you,” she said with a glacial smile. “Mr Parker.” She then caught sight of Georgiana, her eyes resting on her with undisguised disdain.

“My apologies, Mrs Norris,” he stammered, “this is Miss Georgiana Lambe, daughter of the late George Lambe…”

“Yes I can see that,” she cut in, and swept away without acknowledging or greeting Georgiana.

Sidney could see Georgiana’s colour rising and that hardened, almost murderous look she got in her eyes when someone insulted her. However, she remained dignified, much as she had at Lady Denham’s famous luncheon when her hostess had embarrassed her so openly, without a care for her feelings. That time, Sidney knew, he had failed to stand up adequately for his ward; even his brother Arthur had shown more support. And Charlotte that day had said many fine, true words… what would Charlotte do, if she were here now?

Sidney turned to Reynolds and the other merchants. “I am sorry that Mrs Norris does not see fit to acknowledge her fellow heiress. I wish to inform you all that as soon as she turns 21 later this year, Miss Lambe intends to supervise the running of her late father’s property and ensure that it is operated in the way he intended. As you know, we have only freemen and women working for us, and this will continue to be the case. Of course, Miss Lambe will not be alone in managing her property, but I wish to make it clear that ultimately, she will be in charge, and that I expect you to respect her when she comes among you. Is that understood?”

Reynolds nodded. “Fine by me, Parker. Welcome, Miss Lambe. I always had a good deal of respect for your father.” He gave her a brief smile, although he did not go so far as to shake her hand.

“Thank you Mr Reynolds,” replied Georgiana, her head held high. “I intend to continue my father’s principles and I hope that one day other plantation owners on this island will follow our example and employ their labourers rather than enslave them.”

Reynolds laughed. “You may have some way to go before that comes true, Miss Lambe.” He rolled his eyes.

“The time is coming, sir, when every child will not only be born in freedom but will be able to live and…”

Sidney cut in, noticing the amused reactions of the other men. “Come Georgiana, see over here…” Touching her arm, he gently pulled her away.

“Why did you stop me?” she asked indignantly.

“One step at a time, Georgiana. You cannot change the world in a day, you know,” he smiled wryly.

She pouted but did not reply.

“Come, let’s introduce you to some more people…” said Sidney. “Try to smile if you can.”

***********************

Every day, Georgiana and Sidney would eagerly await the post. Sidney had written to several contacts in London to find men who would be willing to come out and help run the estate, while Georgiana was anxiously awaiting letters from Otis. It had been many weeks since she had heard from him.

Sidney came down to breakfast one morning and Patsy brought him the post. Dorcas was now close to her confinement, but they had of course kept her on in the house and the other servants were taking good care of her. Two letters had arrived on the same ship: one for himself and one for Georgiana. He was unable to decipher the careful looped handwriting on Georgiana’s correspondence; it was very different from Otis’ scrawl.

Sidney had not received word from London however; instead he had a missive from his old friend Babington, now back on his country estate and eagerly awaiting the birth of his first child. Happily, all was very well. Babington also had several other pieces of information to pass on that Sidney took great interest in.

‘ _My dear friend, before we left London, we did everything we could to spread word of Sanditon and encourage investment and I am hopeful that our efforts were not in vain and that the town will attract many more visitors this summer. A certain Lady Worcester also seems most interested in pursuing this project and, as you well know, she has lofty connections indeed. You may have heard that she is sponsoring a pair of sisters for the season, one of whom you know rather well. We had the pleasure of encountering her at our last ball and she was looking very well and in good spirits. Esther said she was most concerned to hear of you and Miss Lambe returning to the Indies and passed on her very best wishes to both of you.’_

Sidney smiled to himself. No mention of any suitors at least. The next part of the letter intrigued him greatly.

‘ _Terrible scandal concerning Miss Brereton but Esther says I must keep mum until the truth comes out, which could be several months. Crowe escorted her back to London, as you know, but Esther seems most certain that he is not the author of her misfortune. We are glad to be leaving London as Esther’s relation – I cannot even bring myself to mention his name – is also in town, swarming around moneyed ladies like a bee round a honeypot. Rumour has it he is interested in one wealthy widow in particular – what a terrible shame that would be, would it not, old chum? Well, I for one shall be glad to be free of all this London gossip and happily ensconce myself by the fire with a glass of port after a day’s shooting… very much wish you could join us._

_Yours, etc.’_

Sidney scratched his head. Why on earth did Babington have to talk in riddles? He blamed his new wife, a clever minx if he ever met one.

Georgiana entered the breakfast room. “A letter!” she exclaimed in excitement. “But it has come from England,” she said, puzzled. “Aha, I think I know who this is from, Sidney,” she smiled, settling back in her chair.

Sidney swallowed as Georgiana eagerly opened the letter, sipping her coffee and buttering her toast as she read. He drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. His whole body was suffused in nervous anticipation. How was it possible that after so many months, even the mention of her name or the sight of her handwriting could provoke such a visceral reaction in him?

Georgiana continued eating merrily. “Georgiana… please,” he begged in some distress. “Is it from her? What does she say?”

Georgiana laid down the letter, thoroughly enjoying keeping him on tenterhooks. “Well…” she began. “Guess what?”

“I have no idea,” he said impatiently. “What?”

“She is in Sanditon.”

“In Sanditon?” This was surprising news.

She nodded. “Yes. She has not long returned, at least, when she wrote it had not been long. Sadly, it appears Mrs Parker has not been well… oh, but do not fret, Charlotte says she is much improved. They specifically requested Charlotte to come and attend on her and she is rapidly regaining her spirits. She is also visiting almost daily with Lady Denham. Hmm, why would she do that, I wonder? Horrible old witch…”

This news brought tears to Sidney’s eyes. She was so deeply connected with his family now that she was their first port of call in times of trouble. He could picture her now: comforting Mary, playing with the children, sorting out Tom’s chaotic paperwork. She had made herself so invaluable last summer; it was not in the least surprising that Tom and Mary had decided they could not do without her. It was at this juncture that Sidney finally came to the realisation he could not do without her either, and he vowed that he would do everything in his power to break that Faustian pact he had made. Money or no money, there was no way he was ever walking down the aisle with Eliza Campion. He would just have to trust to fate, to Babington, and indeed to Lady Worcester and her connections. And, of course, to Charlotte.

Georgiana, unaware of the tumult of emotions running through him, continued, “Listen to this, Sidney. _Please tell Mr Parker that his brother is most anxious to hear from him; I suggest he writes without delay. I am very relieved you both survived the voyage and are well and I am most pleased that you are beginning to appreciate the merits of your guardian. Please give him my warmest regards.”_

“Happy?” she raised an eyebrow, giggling.

Sidney was almost too moved to speak. “Yes,” he replied quietly.

“Oh, but this is the most interesting part,” she grinned. “ _If you are still seeking someone to work on the estate, I know a young man of four-and-twenty whom I would most heartily recommend. He has considerable experience of working on my father’s estate but has long been seeking adventure abroad. He is strong, fit and healthy with a lively mind; well learned and a good eye for figures. His name is William Heywood_.”

“William Heywood?” asked Sidney.

“Yes,” smiled Georgiana. “Her brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Norris” is of course a nod back to Mrs Norris in Mansfield Park. Robert Norris was an (infamous) Liverpool slave trader and it is thought that perhaps Austen used the surname deliberately in Mansfield Park (Lord Mansfield was Dido Belle’s adoptive father, the Attorney General who made a famous ruling about slavery). Mrs Norris is a mean, spiteful character.  
> Apparently, Dido Belle did not usually eat with the rest of her (white) adoptive family when they had guests. I can imagine Eliza would have tried to exclude Georgiana from her social occasions as well. 
> 
> In Mansfield Park, Fanny Price’s brother is called William and there is talk of him going out to Antigua to help his uncle on the plantation, but in the end he joins the Navy. I really wanted to get Charlotte out to Antigua, but I just don’t think it would realistically be allowed at that time, so we’ll have to send her brother instead...


	12. Sanditon - April 1820

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to note - updates to this story will be slower than on my other stories as I haven't written all of this yet. I know what's going to happen, but it's taking longer to write. If you have any ideas or comments, don't hesitate to let me know. 
> 
> A little detour back to Sanditon and - to my surprise - inside Eliza's head. What will we find?!

_“Without mutual love and affection, marriage too can become a kind of slavery.”_

Charlotte was sitting at breakfast, spreading anchovy paste on her toast. She had received a letter from Willingden and was delighted to hear that William was making preparations to sail to Antigua. William had long wanted to see the world and Georgiana had assured her that the Lambe plantation was unlike any other: the workers were treated fairly and paid a decent wage. Georgiana’s last letter had been full of all the things that she and Sidney were doing to improve the estate and the lives of their labourers. Unfortunately, however, the business was losing money: the soil in Antigua, one of the first colonies to be planted, was becoming exhausted and they were facing fierce competition from larger, more profitable islands such as Jamaica. This, coupled with the fact that they paid their labourers a wage and provided them with decent accommodation and some education, was eating away at Georgiana’s fortune, but she declared that she did not care. She would rather do some good in the world than exploit her fellow Antiguans; she was not the type of woman to sit around drinking sweetened tea while others sweated and toiled.

Charlotte could not help but admire her, and could not help but be slightly jealous of her brother. What she would have given to sail across the ocean: not just to be near the one she loved, but to have some adventure, to toil and do some good in the world herself. But she knew full well her father would never let her travel so far and would certainly not let her stay at the Lambe plantation, unchaperoned apart from Georgiana, in close proximity to a man who was engaged to another. She was also still very much occupied in Sanditon, helping Mary organise the household, assisting Tom with his accounts and visiting Lady Denham. She had some idea that Lady Denham was beginning to soften her stance towards the Parkers and, leaned on a little by her sole heir, Lady Babington, might even be persuaded to make a larger investment in the project. However, Alison had already returned to Willingden from London and now her mother and father were requesting that Charlotte return home too. She could not stay in Sanditon forever, but she was hopeful that she and Alison could return to Sanditon together to enjoy some of the summer season. She so longed to show her all the sights and she knew that Tom was most desirous to have her assistance at the annual Regatta.

Tom too was reading a letter and sighing heavily. Charlotte shook herself from her thoughts and turned towards him. “Is everything well, Mr Parker?” She peered across the table; by the look of the letter it had travelled far.

“It is a letter from Sidney,” he replied. Immediately, Charlotte’s heart began to beat faster. “He has simply no idea when he will be able to return. This is ridiculous, ridiculous!”

Charlotte smiled to herself. In her last letter from Georgiana, she had told her of a private conversation she and Sidney had held on the veranda one night, when they had both been drinking wine. Apparently Sidney had declared that he was "willing to stay in Antigua until his beard was long and grey rather than marry that old witch". The latter epithet was Georgiana’s, but Charlotte had understood the sentiment.

“Oh,” said Tom, “here is a part pertaining to you Charlotte. _I am most pleased that Miss Heywood has returned to Sanditon, as I know how invaluable she is to you and Mary -_ indeed, Charlotte, indeed – _it is almost as if she were one of the family.”_

Would that it were true, thought Charlotte.

“And he is very pleased that several parties have been raising interest in London and encouraging investors and visitors to come to Sanditon. Who and what is he talking about? You know Mary,” said Tom, putting down the letter, “I think I shall have to go to London myself. I have written several times to Mrs Campion to invite her to come and see the progress of the works, but I have had no reply. Most odd. Yes, I am decided. I shall visit her myself and see if I can prevail upon her. I shall go today.”

“Today, Tom? Are you sure?” said Mary, surprised.

“Absolutely.” Tom rose from the table and headed off to make preparations. Charlotte and Mary exchanged an amused look. Just then, the nursemaid entered the room, asking for Mary to attend to little James, so she departed. Charlotte could not help snatching a glimpse at the letter. Strange as it may seem, she had never seen Sidney’s handwriting before. It was a firm, swooping hand, much as she had imagined it to be. _It is almost as if she were one of the family._ She allowed her fingers to trace over the words. Were they directly intended for her?

And so gradually, over the months, a strange coded correspondence grew up between the pair. Every letter she sent to Georgiana contained a subtle message intended for Sidney, and as time went on, her messages became a little bolder. The same was true of the letters Georgiana sent to her, although in these her friend was much more frank. In this way, the star-crossed lovers reassured each other of their continuing friendship and affection, while taking care not to stray beyond the bounds of propriety. Georgiana’s letters also contained long descriptions of the island, the plantation and their daily lives, until Charlotte could vividly picture the scenes before her eyes, and through these letters she came to know Sidney better and to understand a little more about his past, what had shaped his present and what had made him the man he was.

As much as she might have wished to, Charlotte could not accompany her brother to Antigua, but by sending William there it was almost as if she were sending a part of herself. William was two years older than her and they had always been close, sharing the same love of books and learning. She would miss her brother terribly but somehow she felt she would be able to live through him vicariously, almost like a good luck charm to keep Sidney safe for her, if it were ever possible that he should one day return a free man.

************************

_ Marylebone Terrace, London _

Eliza Campion was bored. This was not how she had imagined the year 1820 would turn out. Everything, it seemed, had been cancelled.* Two weeks from now should have been the occasion of her wedding to Sidney Parker. It had been meticulously planned down to the last detail and it would have been the society wedding of the year, but now all the plans lay in ruins. She should have been the talk of the season, but now everyone’s attention was elsewhere. At the age of twenty-nine, she was no longer the belle of every ball but she had counted on her marriage to Sidney propelling her to the forefront of society: a golden couple in looks, wealth and influence.

And yet here she was, at the end of the winter season, alone and unloved. For she was no longer under any illusion about Sidney’s feelings. Since leaving for Antigua he had written her two short letters, so short that they barely covered half the paper they were written on. The first one had merely informed her of their arrival in the Indies, with no indication of when he might return. The second, received just that morning, was curt and businesslike, going into quite unnecessary detail about his dealings on the island and the vast amount of work that needed to be done, resulting in the conclusion that he was unlikely to be back in time for a summer wedding, and their nuptials would therefore be postponed until the winter at least. Eliza had hissed in frustration as she read his words: a winter wedding was impossible, she would not countenance it.

She threw the letter to the floor in petulant indignation. However, it was not simply the disruption to her plans that was causing her pain. What really cut her to the quick was Sidney’s utter indifference. When, shortly after the end of her mourning period, she had discovered that he was back in London and that he was still not a married man, she had made it her business to seek him out. Using her connections, she had gathered intelligence on the Parkers and their affairs, quickly realising that Tom Parker was still the hotheaded, impetuous man he had always been. Sidney of course was more successful, but his level of wealth came nowhere near the upper echelons that Eliza occupied. She began to attend society occasions in the hope of meeting him by happenchance; it was better that way. When she spotted him at Mrs Maudsley’s rout however, she could not believe her eyes. He was dancing very intimately with some complete unknown but, to her delight, as soon as he saw his former lover, he was attracted to her like a moth to a flame. And, like a flame, she intended to burn brightly, draw him in and keep him close, his wings clipped, unable to escape. He had wavered for a time, tempted by that country wench, but then fate had once more intervened and had indeed gifted her a second chance.

She had disregarded the monetary side of their transaction, pushing it to the back of her mind, preferring to focus on her fervent conviction that he would soon see his rightful place belonged with her, not with some penniless farmer’s daughter. Ten years she had been waiting. Ten long years. Who would had ever thought the old man would have lived so long! Charles Campion had insisted on pawing her from time to time but, like most married women of her acquaintance, she had taken other lovers, often married themselves. Such discreet – or not so discreet – arrangements were considered perfectly acceptable in her social milieu. She had taken great care not to fall with child and had only once been unlucky, but the pregnancy had not lasted, which had saddened her more than she expected. She wanted children, and she wanted them with Sidney, and she had been hurt and devastated when he refused to seal their union before he set sail. There now seemed little possibility of drawing him into an indelible bond. As she now realised, he simply had no appetite for it.

Eliza was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she had no wish to be trapped in another loveless marriage. This time it would be even worse, as she would be the one in love with a man who had no regard for her, who would cold shoulder her at every turn, who regarded their marriage as a business transaction and nothing more. Lately, another man had begun to pay her not inconsiderable attention. Granted, he was a little flighty and as poor as a church mouse, but he had a title. And even more importantly, he had made it quite plain that he desired her and that he would not be reticent in his approaches. Perhaps it was time to enjoy a little flattery, to enjoy basking in a little appreciation for once.

Just at that moment, she heard a bell ring and shortly afterwards, the maid came into the parlour.

“Sir Edward Denham is here, ma’am.”

Eliza smiled. “Send him up.”

Twenty minutes later, Eliza and Edward exited onto the street as Eliza’s carriage drew up in front of the townhouse. At that very moment, Tom Parker was turning the corner of Marylebone Place, having not long arrived in London and keen to call on Mrs Campion without delay. He stopped, aghast, as Edward obligingly held out his hand and assisted Eliza into the carriage, bestowing a fleeting kiss on her hand as he did so, for which he was graced with an indulgent smile. Edward leapt inside and the carriage drew away speedily.

***************************

Two days later, Charlotte was walking on the beach with Mr Stringer before supper. She had consciously attempted to limit the amount of time she spent with him, aware that he still admired her and not wanting to give him false hope, but he frequently sought out her company and, truth be told, she enjoyed their conversations. He was one person she felt she could be herself with; he in fact reminded her very much of her brother William, keen to strive and make his mark on the world, rise above his station. There was only one subject she did not discuss with Mr Stringer; the subject of her heart and where it lay. Since her allusion to the real reasons for Sidney’s engagement, it was a topic they avoided. Today, however, they both had news to impart.

“So you are returning to Willingden again, Miss Heywood?” asked James, glancing sidelong at her. They were now back on formal terms, something he much regretted. What he would have given to address her as Charlotte, his Charlotte.

“Yes,” she smiled. “My brother William is shortly to sail to Antigua and I wish to see him before he departs.”

“Do you think you will come back to Sanditon?”

“Not for any length of time, no.” Charlotte looked out to sea, frowning. “I hope to return in the summer, for the Regatta, with my sister Alison. She so longs to see the town and the sea.”

There was a pause and James stopped in his tracks. “I shall have left by then, Miss Heywood. I am planning to take up that position in London I told you about. Once the rebuilding is complete, there will be very little to keep me here.”

Charlotte turned to face him. “Oh Mr Stringer, that is wonderful news. I am sure you will do well in London. Sanditon is too small a place for such a talent as yours.”

James blushed. “Thank you, miss. So we shall not meet again for some time, unless that is…”

“What?” asked Charlotte softly, her head to the side, fearing what he was going to say.

James fidgeted nervously with the brim of the tall hat that he held in his hands. He let out a breath. “Unless you could see your way to joining me in London. Not now, but in the future, when I am settled, when I have sufficient means… if you would permit me to write to you… there is nothing I would like more in the world than to have you as my…”

Charlotte stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. “Mr Stringer… I would be happy to hear of your progress. I am very flattered, but please understand I have no intention of marrying. Not now, nor in the future.”

James laughed awkwardly. “Ah well, it was worth a try, was it not? Charlotte.”

She smiled. “I will always think of you with affection. James.”

“But your heart lies elsewhere.” He nodded out to sea.

“Please do not speak of it.” She looked down at the sand sadly.

“Very well. Be assured I shall always keep you in my thoughts. Let us return to town.” He offered his arm and she took it, as they walked in silence back to Trafalgar House, where they parted.

Charlotte quietly opened the front door then stopped abruptly. The sound of raised voices could be heard from the other room. Tom and Mary. Although Mary was now fully recovered from her malaise, whatever it was that had ailed her, there was a strained tension between herself and Tom that had not been there before. Although they clearly loved each other, they struggled to communicate; Tom was still very much preoccupied with his project and Mary seemed to have less and less enthusiasm for it these days, preferring to spend her time with the children. Charlotte paused in the hallway. She did not want to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to.

“But I do not want to invite that woman to stay here! Not until Charlotte has gone, at least.”

“She is our principal investor Mary! We cannot survive without her. And she is betrothed to my brother! Anyway, what does Charlotte have to do with it?”

“Oh Tom! How is it possible that you do not see? Why do you think Sidney has gone to the other side of the world? How can you be so blind? He does not love Mrs Campion. Not one bit.”

“You mean…?”

A few moments of silence, then quietly:

“Yes, Tom. Of course. Why do you think I have been so unwell? My mind so tormented. We are… forcing your brother into a future he does not want, simply to fund your ambitions.”

“It is much more than that, Mary. He has kept us from the poorhouse.”

“Yes, and I am grateful. But look at the cost. Your brother’s happiness. And that dear girl. After everything she has done for us.”

“Well, I am afraid it cannot be helped. It is too late now. Although the thing is, Mary, when I was in London…”

Charlotte had heard enough. She hurried up to her room. Perhaps it was just as well she had no intention of marrying if this was what a marriage was like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Sorry about the everything being cancelled - couldn't resist it!  
> As I said before, I don't want to spend too much time on how S&C get out of the Eliza predicament. Edward is an obvious choice and I’m sure I’m not the first to have thought of it! But I do think she would be bored of Sidney’s indifference and a little hurt by it. I’m sure she has feelings (and needs!) of her own and she must realise at some point how hollow their marriage would be.  
> Morals were quite lax among the 18th C. / Regency aristocracy, as biographies such as The Duchess of Devonshire by Amanda Foreman make very clear.
> 
> Tom and Mary need to work on their marriage I think! Don't worry about Charlotte - she's in a bit of an Elinor Dashwood situation at the moment - things will work out in her favour, and at least she knows Sidney is thinking of her. We'll now be going back to the West Indies for quite some time - William Heywood will be arriving and there may be some news of Otis...


	13. Brothers and sisters (May 1820)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess this story is a bit sad and wistful - probably a reflection of me (and all of us) waiting for a potential resolution to this story for well over a year! Like Sidney and Charlotte, I hope that time, patience, fate and a bit of luck will lead to the happy ending we all deserve :) 
> 
> William Heywood arrives in Antigua, Georgiana hears news of Otis and Sidney receives some troubling news from Tom.

And so it was that, some weeks later, William Heywood, at four-and-twenty years of age, stepped off the ship at English Harbour after a long voyage. Sidney went to meet him. As he saw the tall, young man striding towards him a shiver ran down his spine; it was almost like meeting a ghost.

“Mr Parker,” he smiled, a little nervously, offering his hand.

Sidney shook it firmly. “William. Delighted to make your acquaintance. Come, let me help you with your luggage.”

Sidney stared into the large, deep brown eyes of the young man standing in front of him; his naive demeanour reminding him a little of himself at a similar age, arriving in the West Indies with all the gaucheness of youth. Yet he would make sure that this young man did not have such a rude awakening to the realities of colonial life and the sugar trade. William was only contracted for two or three years at the most and would be permitted to leave any time, if he so chose. Undoubtedly, he would not find it easy work but Georgiana seemed convinced that, if he was anything like his sister, he would be possessed of a work ethic and perseverance that would serve them well.

Sidney regarded him from the side as they conversed politely in the carriage on the ride back to the house. Perhaps this had not been a good idea after all. Naturally, William was very different from his sister, taller, thinner and more manly, but the luminous sparkle of his eyes, the shapely curve of his eyebrows, the soft brown curls of his hair, the thrust of his chin and even the inflection of his voice all reminded him acutely of Charlotte, sending a pang to his heart. William at least had a straight Roman nose, unlike Charlotte’s petite upturned one, but it too was scattered with soft freckles.

Sidney spent the next days and weeks showing William around the estate and explaining all the ins and outs of the business to him. He was pleased to note that the young man was quick-witted, eager to learn and had a good head for figures. He had grown up on the Heywood family’s large farming estate and in recent years had worked very closely at his father’s side, managing the tenants, organising the crop rotation and dealing with traders at the market. Of course, a sugar cane plantation was quite a different kettle of fish, but he was quick to learn and, like Charlotte, had an easy manner about him that the labourers seemed to warm to.

Georgiana too was very satisfied with their new estate manager and extremely pleased with herself for the part she had played in procuring him. Knowing that – regrettably - he could not stay on the island forever, Sidney was keen to arrange for another manager to come out from England, but so far had not had any luck in attracting anyone suitable. The word back home was that the glory days of one of England’s oldest colonies was coming to a close: the soil was exhausted, emancipation could not be far away, and most of the trade was now concentrated on the large, lush island of Jamaica. However, the longer this situation continued, the longer Sidney would have to remain with his ward and the longer his wedding would be postponed, so he found himself indifferent to its outcome. He was enjoying life on the island, the busy days toiling in the heat, punctuated by swimming in the white sand coves and riding in the hills, when time allowed, as well as the long, sultry nights conversing on the veranda.

William began to settle into the household and Sidney and Georgiana invited him to spend the evenings with them when it was too hot to sit indoors. As they talked about this and that, Sidney observed the young man in front of him closely. There was something about the way his mouth crinkled when he was amused, a lilt in his laugh, and the way he used his hands to express himself that reminded him strongly of Charlotte. William caught him watching, a sad smile on his face.

“What is it, Sir?” he asked.

“Please,” urged Sidney, taking a draw on his cigarette, “call me Sidney. We are all on first name terms here.” He paused. “Nothing, just – it is striking how much you resemble your sister, that is all.”

Georgiana’s attention perked up. “It is true William,” she laughed. “Some of your mannerisms are almost identical.”

“People have often said we are much alike,” William blushed. “Not just in looks. We share a love of reading and of nature. Charlotte loves to spend time outdoors. Mother always scolds her because she does not care for helping in the kitchen. She would much rather be out with me, shooting hares for the pot and hunting down the foxes.”

Sidney smiled indulgently. “Tell me more about her. About growing up together, about your life on the farm.”

“Did you know her well, Sir… Sidney, I mean?” asked William innocently.

Georgiana chuckled and Sidney gave her an admonishing glare. “A little, yes,” he ventured uncertainly. “Did she ever… speak of her time in Sanditon? Of whom she met there?”

William frowned. “It is difficult to say. When she returned at the end of last summer, she was changed somehow. Quieter. She did not like to talk so much as before. We spent a lot of time out on the farm together, but she often kept her thoughts to herself.” He paused. “I gathered from my other sister, Alison, that she may have been disappointed in… in some way. But I do not know what she meant.”

Sidney said nothing, exhaling his smoke into the warm night and gazing out at the palm trees swaying in the slight breeze.

William continued. “She did of course recommend me most heartily to take up this post and she told me that you, Sir, were a very trustworthy gentleman and that I would be doing Miss Georgiana a great favour in helping her on the estate. And I have always wanted to see the world.”

“Well, Antigua is only a very small corner of the world,” smiled Sidney.

“Yes but for someone who has never been more than five miles from home, it is very different indeed.” They all laughed.

As the weeks passed, William and Sidney spent many more evenings conversing together, savouring a brandy or two. Sidney told him much about the history of the sugar trade and his own past experiences on Antigua, and how unique the Lambe plantation was compared to the other planters on the island. William talked at great length about Willingden, the Heywood estate, his mother and father, his six sisters and five brothers, and most particularly Charlotte, until Sidney had such a lucid, intricate picture of the village, the farm and the large, noisy, happy, Heywood family that he could almost imagine he was there himself. He could just see Charlotte as a child and as a young girl, skirts tucked, boots muddy, hair flowing free, complexion ruddy, running around the fields chasing her brothers and sisters, playing cricket on the village green, lying under a tree with William reading a book: such sweet, unspoiled innocence. No wonder she had found everything so befuddling when she arrived in Sanditon. No wonder she had been so perplexed by the strange behaviour of the Denham pair and their scheming cousin. No wonder she had been so offended by Sidney’s rudeness and saddened at Lady Denham’s insolence. And yet she had not let any of these unsettling experiences hold her back; she had striven to make sense of things, to bring people together, to break down their barriers and help them improve their behaviour, most especially his. He too had striven to prove himself worthy of her, but deep down he knew he had always been capable of behaving better; he had simply needed someone to love him for who he was and encourage him to be his best self. But, in doing so, he had sacrificed the best thing life had ever brought him.

One morning, Sidney took William down to the port in St John’s to supervise the loading of the barrels onto the ships. He had been somewhat unsettled since receiving a letter from Tom a few days previously. The letter must have been written some months back, the vast majority of it pertaining to the rebuilding and the business, along with several pleas for Sidney to return as soon as possible. Tom had not heard anything from Eliza and was very keen to secure her direct patronage, anxious of losing her investment. The heavy burden of responsibility he felt towards his brother was onerous enough, but then, at the end of the letter, after cursorily referring to Mary’s illness and how wonderful Charlotte had been in helping her recover her spirits, Tom idly mentioned that their house guest had been “walking out” with his foreman, Mr Stringer. Sidney tried as hard as he could to dismiss this as one of Tom’s fancies, but the phrase remained etched in his mind and he could not erase it. He decided not to say anything to Georgiana, or indeed to William, but in truth, he was beginning to lose hope that his situation would ever change. He had heard nothing from Babington since that first letter, though he assumed that his old friend must be a father by now and consumed by domestic bliss, while Georgiana had only received one more letter from Charlotte containing news from Sanditon. True, she was working her magic with Lady Denham it seemed, and proving invaluable to Tom and Mary, but she had not mentioned anything of Mr Stringer. Of course she would not. He had long been aware of Stringer’s admiration for her, ever since that fractious day at the cricket match, when he had experienced intense feelings of jealousy that had both surprised and unnerved him, but as the days passed, it had quickly become clear to him who Charlotte favoured. Yet that was many, many months ago and their lives had altered so much since. Absence might make the heart grow fonder but perhaps it also made remembrance weaker. Was it possible that her memories of him were fading, that she was losing hope, that her exceptionally rational mind was looking to the future? Every day, he eagerly awaited the post, hoping for another letter addressed to Georgiana in that gentle, looping scroll, another letter that might contain a secret message, but every day he waited in vain.

No matter, they had business to attend to. Georgiana had accompanied them to St John’s but had gone walking into town with Alice Crockett. The port was bustling with traders and merchants, the beaten down slaves pushing barrels along the quay to load up the ships. His own labourers however were well dressed and healthy looking: proud, strong men who, much to his relief, had accepted him as their new, albeit temporary, master. One of the foremen, Ezekiel, was there at the port today, directing operations. Sidney could not help but admire his commanding presence, the calm yet assertive manner in which he handled the men, not to mention his honesty and loyalty. Ezekiel undoubtedly knew more about the plantation and the trade than young William, fresh from England, possibly even more than Sidney himself, but it was difficult for Sidney to envisage putting a black man, a former slave who was barely able to read and write, in charge of the estate.

Sidney nodded to Reynolds, who was supervising his own workers.

“And where is your young ward today? Miss Lambe?” asked Reynolds, acknowledging him.

“She has gone into town,” replied Sidney. “This is my new estate manager, William Heywood,” Sidney introduced him and the two men shook hands.

“Have you heard the latest from Bridgetown?” said Reynolds, by way of conversation. “Another ship has gone down near Carlisle Bay, an English merchant clipper. Most of the men were saved, but all the cargo was lost, sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Terrible shame. An insurance write-off, no doubt.”

“Do you know the name of the ship?” asked Sidney, concerned.

“No, but they were talking about it down at the harbourmaster’s office.”

Just then, Georgiana came hurrying along the quay, clutching her bonnet, evidently in some distress.

“What is it?” asked Sidney, but he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It is his ship! The HMS Clarence. It has gone down off Barbados. They say many men were lost and those that were saved are left to fend for themselves in Bridgetown until another ship can pick them up. That could be weeks!”

“Who does she speak of?” asked Reynolds, intrigued.

“No one. A friend.” Sidney pulled Georgiana away discreetly. “Calm yourself, we do not want everyone to know our business.”

“How can I be calm?” she expostulated, her voice rising. “Even if he is alive, he will not be safe there. You know that.”

It was true. Barbados was notorious for an illicit trade in slaves, who were often re-exported to North America, other islands in the Caribbean and even Venezuela. Otis might be a free man, but as a black man, he was at risk from unscrupulous individuals.

Sidney, Georgiana and William made their way back from St John’s to the plantation, Georgiana visibly upset, Sidney lost in thought. William headed off to ride round the estate and check on the day’s work as Sidney paced around the drawing room. One of the servants brought them drinks to cool them down.

“There is nothing else for it,” Sidney said finally. “I shall go to Barbados. It is not a long journey, I shall only be gone a couple of weeks at most.”

“I shall come with you,” stated Georgiana boldly.

“No, you must stay here.” She began to protest but he cut in quickly. “We cannot leave William here alone. I will leave you both in charge, however.”

For the first time that day, she smiled. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Sidney smiled back. “However, you cannot manage everything. I am thinking that we should appoint Ezekiel as overseer. He is more than capable. What do you think?”

“A black overseer,” she laughed. “Reynolds and his friends will not like that.”

“Then we shall not tell them. Right, I shall make enquiries about the next boat to Barbados. There is no time to lose.”

**************************

Sidney booked a passage on a sailing ship for a few days’ hence; there was much to prepare before his departure, but he knew that he could trust William to run affairs. Georgiana, however, was a slightly different matter. She had taken a great interest in how the plantation operated and had taken to riding round the estate, making sure the labourers’ homes were well maintained and that their medical care and basic education was provided for, but he was concerned about her business acumen and in particular how she would be received at the trading place in St John’s. She was more than capable, but she was still young and, at times, impulsive and hot-headed. Still, she would be turning twenty-one by the winter and then the estate would all be hers; he would not be her guardian forever. These last few months however had most definitely cemented a firm friendship and new-found respect between the pair and he very much hoped he would continue to be involved in her life, in one way or another.

On the morning of Sidney’s departure, he and Georgiana rode out into the fields along with William. Having spoken to Ezekiel privately, they wished to announce his appointment to all the labourers. Georgiana was also keen to address everyone and make it clear how she intended to run the estate in the future. Her speech was impassioned and fervent and Sidney was more than a little surprised at her maturity and commitment. She promised to be up before everyone else, work twice as hard as anyone else and always be fair in her dealings.

Soon it was time for him to depart. Full of emotion, he clasped her hands. “Now promise me, Georgiana, you will listen to William and defer to him in any doubt. Yes, yes, I know you are more than capable,” he added, noticing her demurral, “but you are still young and I especially wish you to be careful when you go to St John’s. Not everyone there has your best interests at heart.”

“I understand,” she smiled. “You know I trust William. He is so… clear-sighted and honourable. Much like his sister, don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” A sad smile.

“And promise me that if you find Otis, you will bring him back to Antigua?” she pleaded, tears forming in her eyes.

“Of course,” he said softly. “He deserves a chance, does he not?”

She nodded, but then her brow crinkled. “Sidney… I am not certain whether I still feel the same towards him… over these months we have spent here, I feel that I have grown and changed. I am enjoying being mistress of my own fortune, my own future, and I am not sure if…”

“Do not worry yourself,” he reassured her. “There is time enough for that. At the very least, we can help Otis return to England or find him another ship.” He paused. “Georgiana… have you heard any more from… from Charlotte?” he asked with a hopeful tinge to his voice.

She shook her head. “No, but remember it can take months for letters to arrive. And then the news is stale and out of date.” She shrugged in exasperation. “But what is troubling you?”

“I…" Sidney looked down at his hands, a little embarrassed. "Did she ever mention Mr Stringer to you? Her regard for him?” 

“No,” she laughed, “never in the same way that she talked about you, Sidney Parker.” She poked his chest playfully. “Come now. Things will work out, I am sure of it. That old witch will tire of you and find herself a new toy to play with.”

Sidney looked up into her eyes, sighing as he did so. “I wish I had your conviction. I am a fool, am I not? I should forget all about her. But I find it is impossible.”

Georgiana hugged him tightly, like the little sister she now was. “Keep faith, Sidney, keep faith. Fate has a strange way of surprising us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The William/Charlotte brother/sister thing: I am thinking a little of Sebastian and Viola in Twelfth Night and all the other cross-dressing sibling confusion things that happen in Shakespeare!  
> Georgiana’s speech to the workers: I called her mother Bathsheba in this story and, as she matures, I imagine her being a little like Bathsheba Everdene in Far from the Madding Crowd (Hardy): “I shall be up before you are awake; I shall be afield before you are up; and I shall have breakfasted before you are afield. In short, I shall astonish you all.” Georgiana has obviously progressed from her days of laying in bed in Sanditon! (Was anyone else annoyed that she seemed to do very little else after returning from London? I mean, give the girl a storyline!)  
> Barbados has an interesting history. England’s oldest colony, it was first settled in 1627 and for many years, white labour was imported there – many prisoners from England and thousands of Irish people. These “white Creoles” were often used as a buffer class, employed as overseers or police to keep the African population under control. As the cost of white labour soared, the slave trade became the staple supply of labour. The population has always been quite mixed and it was one of the first colonies to support abolition. It was also a stopping off point for the buying and selling of slaves who were sent on to America and other places. You can read more here  
> http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/empire_seapower/barbados_01.shtml


	14. Bridgetown, Barbados

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we're taking a little trip to Barbados, where Sidney gets a chance to make amends for rudely interrupting Otis' speech at the Sons of Africa meeting (only joking!)

_"Man's inhumanity to man  
Makes countless thousands mourn!"_

**_“Man was made to mourn” by Robert Burns (1784)_ **

_"There is only one way in which one can endure man's inhumanity to man and that is to try, in one's own life,  
to exemplify man's humanity to man." _

**_Alan Paton, South African author and anti-apartheid activist_ **

Sidney stepped off the boat into Carlisle Bay Harbour after a five-day voyage. He had been to Bridgetown before, many years ago while working for Mr Lambe. Regrettably, for the business of purchasing slaves. Barbados, a larger and more densely populated island than Antigua, was an important trading outpost, thanks to its easterly position and favourable trade winds. Although the triangular trade, with its feared Middle Passage*, had ceased, French and Spanish ships still unloaded their human cargo at regular intervals. Mr Lambe’s slaves, even before their manumission, were well treated and had a healthy reproduction rate, but there were times when the plantation was short of labour, so on one or two occasions, George Lambe had sent Sidney to Bridgetown to procure more workers. This Sidney had done with a heavy heart. He knew that they could have more easily purchased men and women from the neighbouring island of Barbuda, where Carrington had another plantation rumoured to be a “human stock farm” and designed to breed the strongest, healthiest workers, but Mr Lambe would have no truck with Carrington and his unscrupulous methods.

So Sidney was all too familiar with the slave auction in Bridgetown and the degrading manner in which human beings were prodded, poked and sold like cattle, turned into mere statistics of height, weight, age and life expectancy. Sidney had always justified his actions with the belief that if he did not rescue some of these men and women, their fate would surely be much worse: they would be worked to death within a few years, or sold on to an uncertain fate in the cotton fields of America. At least on Mr Lambe’s plantation, they would be well fed and cared for, given a small amount of freedom and even the chance to earn some money. Some of these men and women were still working on the plantation even now, as freemen. And Sidney had always endeavoured to keep family groups together, even when this did not appear to be economically rational. As he had told Georgiana, you could not change the world in a day – Wilberforce knew that, having spent the best part of twenty years tirelessly campaigning to abolish the slave trade, putting bill after bill before the Houses of Parliament – but you could at least try to do your small ration of good in your own corner of the world. You could at least try and alleviate the suffering, even if you could not stop it completely.

Sidney made enquiries at the harbourmaster’s office and was told that the surviving crew from HMS Clarence had been dispersed throughout the town, staying at various inns and hostelries while awaiting a ship to take them back to England or, if they were lucky, another clipper that would hire their services. He made his way into the bowels of the city, through the winding, narrow alleys with their makeshift dwellings, as chickens scattered across the dusty, dirty roads, chased by groups of ragged children, who begged him for pennies. He smiled at their eager delight as he dropped a few coins into their palms. Finally, he stumbled across a ramshackle bar on a street corner where a group of white men were sitting at a table, drinking rum and playing cards. These men had the air of being strangers in the district.

“Excuse me,” enquired Sidney politely. He was not of course dressed in his habitual gentlemanly attire of top hat and tails, but his appearance was certainly very different to the usual denizens of the neighbourhood. The men playing cards looked up lethargically; he could tell they had already spent some hours imbibing the local spirit.

“I am looking for a man who was on the HMS Clarence, the ship that went down in Carlisle Bay. I thought you might be sailors yourselves. From England?”

“That’s right,” one of the men nodded, his face leathery and weather-beaten. “Who was you looking for, Sir?”

“Mr Otis Molyneux. Do you know the man?” Sidney leaned on his cane, looking intently into their faces.

“Oh yes, we know Mr Molyneux alright,” replied one of the men, with a sardonic smile. “Coloured fellow?”

“That’s right. Is he alive? Is he in the town?”

The sailor who had spoken glanced across at his shipmates. No one spoke, cards poised in their hands. Sighing, Sidney slapped some coins on the table. “Tell me what you know. Please. There is a family… connection.”

One of the men shifted uneasily in his chair. “He survived, yes. But he and the other… negroes were captured and taken to the slave pen. Sorry Sir, but what could a gentleman such as you possibly want…?”

“That is none of your business,” replied Sidney sharply. “Mr Molyneux is a free man. You know that. Did nobody stop them?”

The men looked rather shifty. “It wasn’t us, sir. But the traders were offering money. Or so we heard.”

“Well, thank you for the information.” Sidney drew himself up. “I shan’t trouble you any longer.” Placing another pile of coins on the table, he made haste towards the Coutts Bank in the centre of the city. Having procured some bankers’ drafts, he made his way to the slave market down by the docks.

At that very moment, Otis was being herded through the port, an iron collar around his neck and leg irons chaining him to the men in front and behind, a long line of human beings shuffling along the quay towards a large sailing ship moored in its berth. Once again, he had been sold into slavery, this time betrayed by his fellow sailors, for little more than a few pounds no doubt, money they would soon burn at the gambling table or throw down their throats. He and his black brothers had been captured at dead of night as they slept in their beds at an inn in the backstreets of Bridgetown. Despite their attempts to resist capture, they were outnumbered and, for their protestations, had been soundly whipped and forced to wear a punishment collar. Unable to escape, Otis had spent the following days and nights drowning in heavy regret; regret for his past actions, regret for throwing away the chances that life had offered him, and most especially regret for the similar enslaved situation in which his foolhardy, reckless actions had briefly placed Georgiana Lambe.

Otis had been granted his freedom many years before by his former owner Captain Lindsay, a naval officer with interests in a plantation in Saint Lucia who, recognising his innate intelligence, had taught him to read and write, brought him to England and then allowed him to make his own way in life. In London he had also experienced hardship and struggles, but these were nothing compared to his early life as a slave. Gradually, he had worked his way up from being a lowly clerk in a shipping office to owning some trading interests himself and had made a modest amount of money. He had been astonished to discover that many thousands of men and women of his colour lived freely in the capital, most of them in poverty it was true, but no longer in chains, and he had eagerly become involved with the Sons of Africa movement and had swiftly risen to become one of their key speakers and activists. Yet the darker pleasures of London had been all too enticing: when he first entered a gambling house, it was merely to see if he could add a little to the meagre wage he earned, but he quickly discovered a thirst for the roll of the dice and the shuffle of the cards. The heady sensation when he won was too intoxicating, drawing him back time and time again, although these occasions were far outnumbered by the nights when he ended up out of pocket, increasingly in debt to the sharks that circled, preying on his mind day and night.

Meeting Georgiana had been totally unexpected and completely wonderful: he was entranced by her lively intelligence, bewitched by her beauty and understood all too well her feelings of rootlessness and loneliness. Yet by that time he was already sinking into a quagmire of debt and had no idea how to find his way out of it. Unfortunately, the two strands of his life became indelibly enmeshed and one night, after losing heavily at the tables, he had been forced to invoke Georgiana’s name and their imminent wedding as a guarantee against his losses. Sidney Parker, through his connections, must have somehow heard of his rash promise and swiftly removed Georgiana from London. Otis had no control over the tumultuous events that followed but, following the kindness and generosity shown to him by Mr Parker and his deep remorse at seeing Georgiana so betrayed and heartbroken, he had vowed to become a better man, to renounce the life of iniquity into which he had fallen and to endeavour to make himself worthy of the men who had helped him in his life and the woman he thought he loved. Mr Parker had offered him the opportunity to join the merchant navy, to try a different kind of life far away from the sordid streets of London, and he had jumped at the chance.

Life at sea had been hard, as it was for all the indentured seamen, but more especially for Otis and the small band of black brothers he was serving with. Most of the other sailors treated them as equals, but there were some who, from the heights of their own lowly station, chose to treat them with disdain and prejudice. So they had formed a tight-knit group to defend themselves against any taunts or violence that came their way. Otis in particular had been recognised by the ship’s captain as an intelligent man and a hard worker and had been given extra responsibilities. Unfortunately, this had created jealousy amongst some of the other mariners, for which he was now paying the price.

Sidney spotted the line of men and women in chains from afar and hurried along the quay, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was midday and the sun was beating down mercilessly on his bare head; he had not eaten or drunk anything since that morning and his throat was parched. Anxiously, his eyes roved over the men and women in shackles, urged along by the slave traders shouting at them to keep moving; it was well nigh impossible to pick out his man. Sidney stopped one of the traders, a short, squat man in a straw hat.

“Excuse me sir, I believe a great wrong has been done and a friend of mine has been enslaved. He should not be boarding this ship.”

The man laughed in his face. “A friend? And who might you be? All these coves are the property of Mr Thistlewood of Jamaica. He has paid handsomely for them.”

“I am from the Lambe plantation in Antigua,” continued Sidney. “You have freemen here. Sailors from the ship that went down in the bay. I have proof.”

“Show us yer proof then,” sneered the man.

Sidney stood still and, in his loudest, most commanding voice, called out “Mr Molyneux!”

The shuffling line momentarily stopped and a head slowly turned. Otis’ frightened eyes met those of Sidney. His jaw dropped in astonishment. “Mr Parker…” he spluttered.

Sidney strode forward, pointing towards Otis. “This man is a native of London. His name is Otis Molyneux. I paid for his indentures to join the HMS Clarence last year.”

The trader sniffed. “How can you prove it, Sir?”

“Ask him my name.”

Otis drew himself up proudly. “He speaks the truth. His name is Mr Sidney Parker.”

Sidney withdrew the bankers’ drafts from his pocket and showed them to the trader. “There. Here is my name. Satisfied?”

Hands on hips, the trader looked warily between the two men. “Mr Thistlewood will not be happy, sir. He will require payment. As will I.”

“How much?” Sidney snapped.

“Fifty pounds. And twenty for me.”

Otis, trembling, looked into Sidney’s eyes pleadingly. “Mr Parker, I am not the only freeman here. Three of my brothers from the ship were also captured…”

“Three?” Sidney swallowed but then, holding out his hands, broke into a resigned smile. “Very well. I will take all of them. Bring them forward and unshackle them.” The trader looked uncertain. “I suggest you do it now, before I call the law on you,” Sidney threatened, waving the bills in his face.

A short while later, after the grubby exchange had been made, the four men, released from their bondage, walked unsteadily away from the ship, holding on to each other for strength. Otis glanced back regretfully at his brothers and sisters, being transported away to an uncertain future.

“I’m sorry,” said Sidney quietly. “I cannot free all of them. Not yet.”

“I know,” replied Otis. “Thank you.” At that moment, he vowed to devote the rest of his life to ending the scourge of slavery. Nothing would divert him from his path, most certainly not the gambling house, perhaps not even the love of a good woman.

Sidney took the men – Otis, Jonas, Olaudah and Zachariah - to a nearby inn where they all partook of victuals and quenched their thirst, out of the midday heat.

“I will make arrangements for us to board the next ship to Antigua; we must not stay here any longer than is necessary. From there you can go to England if you wish, or work for us on the plantation if you so choose.”

“How is Miss Lambe?” ventured Otis uncertainly. Apart from an initial flurry of letters at the start of his indenture, when Georgiana was still in England, they had not in fact corresponded for quite some time.

“She is well,” Sidney smiled. “In fact she is more than well. She is enjoying being back home, I would say. She is very much her father’s daughter. Hardworking, confident and forthright, although still a little impetuous at times.”

He paused, noticing a trail of blood seeping from the top of Olaudah’s shirt. “What happened there? Did they flog you?”

Olaudah nodded. “All of us.”

Sidney grimaced. “We will ask the women here to tend to your wounds.”

And so, not long afterwards, the five men boarded a ship back to Antigua. The sailors were much refreshed after a few days’ rest in Bridgetown, but Sidney was feeling tired and low in spirits. These past few months had taken a lot out of him: the climate, the work, and not least his anxiety about his future. He knew that, very soon, he would have to return to England and embrace his fate. Who would release _him_ from the shackles of slavery? Who would grant _him_ his freedom?

As he drifted off to sleep, the ship slowly rocking in the wind, thoughts of Charlotte entered his head once more, specifically the last time he had seen her on the clifftop, when he had hailed down her carriage. A journey he had taken in secret, a proper parting that had nearly broken his spirit. It had taken all his resolve not to lift her up onto his horse and whisk her away, to what place he did not know; any place far from other human beings, their foolish ambitions and desires, their inhumanity towards their fellow men. He had seen the brief glimpse hope on her face, swiftly replaced by her expression of stoic pain, a pain that was mirrored in his own heart. One day, he vowed. One day I will absolve that pain and claim her as my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * In the notorious triangular trade, ships departed from England carrying goods such as beads, cloth and guns to West Africa, which they exchanged for enslaved Africans who were then transported to the Caribbean, South America, and American colonies to work on the plantations. This section of the journey was known as the Middle Passage – a dangerous voyage in which many enslaved Africans died from disease, malnutrition or brutality. Many also jumped or were thrown overboard. The vessels returned home with sugar, tobacco and cotton. Before 1820, more than 80% of the people arriving in the New World were enslaved Africans and it is estimated that 12 million enslaved Africans were transported to the Americas.
> 
> William Wilberforce (1759-1833) was a British politician, philanthropist, and a leader of the movement to abolish the slave trade. He began his political career in 1780, eventually becoming an independent MP for Yorkshire. In 1785, he became an evangelical Christian, resulting in major changes to his lifestyle and a lifelong concern for reform. He headed the parliamentary campaign (along with people such as Thomas Clarkson and Granville Sharp) against the British slave trade for twenty years until the passage of the Slave Trade Act of 1807. He died just three days after hearing that the passage through Parliament of the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, which abolished slavery in most of the British Empire, was assured. 
> 
> Barbuda is now part of the sovereign state of Antigua and Barbuda – it seems to have been mainly owned by Christopher Codrington in the past, who also had the largest plantation on Antigua (Carrington in my story). The main town is called Codrington. There were rumours that he had a “human stock farm” there to supply labour for his plantations. 
> 
> You can probably tell that I pinched the idea for Otis’ capture from “Twelve Years A Slave”. I’ve seen the excellent film and have got the book (written by the man himself, Solomon Northup) but haven’t read it all yet.


	15. St Mary's, Antigua - Don't doubt yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments on the previous chapter! This one is a little lighter in tone...

Meanwhile, back in Antigua, William and Georgiana were having dinner together one evening. William had shyly confessed to her that today was his birthday and, squealing with delight, Georgiana had insisted that they share a special meal of saltfish, corn and sweet potatoes, followed by the delectable Antiguan black pineapple. How Georgiana had laughed when she saw William’s reaction.

“It is not actually black!” she giggled. “But it is the sweetest pineapple in the whole world. Here, try it.” She cut him a slice.

William did not like to confess that he had never before tasted any kind of pineapple, but she was right, the fruit was golden, dripping with juice and as sweet as the sweetest honey. William was becoming quite captivated by life on the island with its exotic landscape and unusual foods and, it has to be said, quite captivated by the unusual young woman sitting before him. So far his experience of the opposite sex had been limited to the village girls he met at country dances back in Willingden – pretty enough, and sweet to share a hasty kiss with on occasion, but not quite enough to tempt him into marriage or even into the haybarn, which inevitably led to matrimony one way or another. Like Charlotte, he had a desire to see the world and taste other experiences and, like Charlotte, he did not judge people on the colour of their skin or the size of their pockets; he was more interested in what they had to say and the principles they espoused. Granted, back in England, to walk out with a young woman of colour would be almost unheard of, but here things were different. He and Georgiana had spent many evenings telling each other about their childhoods and their families, although of course Georgiana’s tales were much more fascinating to him than his own dull, rural existence. Yet she seemed interested in everything he had to tell her, eager perhaps for a measure of the stability he had been blessed with.

“The pineapple is delicious,” he smiled. “I have never tasted anything like it.”

Georgiana was frowning, however.

“What is it?” William asked.

She sighed. “It puts me to mind of an occasion in Sanditon when Lady Denham, a mean old harridan if there ever was one, invited me to a luncheon in my honour, no less – in honour of my money, she meant, as that is what she wished to get her hands on – and she served up a pineapple,” Georgiana began giggling again, “which was rotten to the core and teeming with maggots. It was so funny! But…” her expression changed again, “she was despicably rude to me, about my ‘background’, as she called it… she talked about my mother being a slave in front of the whole company. She made me feel utterly worthless.” She looked down at her plate sadly.

“Georgiana, you are far from worthless,” said William earnestly, boldly covering her hand with his own. “In fact, you are one of the most interesting, finest women I have ever met.”

She blushed. “Thank you, William. Don’t worry,” she laughed, “I was not very polite to her either. And Charlotte stood up for me at least. That is when our friendship began.”

“Miss Georgiana,” William ventured, “My sister hinted to me that she helped to save you from a terrible fate back in England. Is it true? I heard you were prone to fortune hunters?”

“Oh yes,” replied Georgiana eagerly, her eyes lighting up. “It was simply shocking!” Now that the incident was nearly a year old, she was able to look back on it with more sanguinity, even with some amusement. After all, it was not every day that you were rescued from an unscrupulous predator following a high-speed carriage chase. “Let us go out on the veranda,” she said, pouring them both a glass of wine, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”

So she related the exciting tale to him, adding a few embellishments here and there, delighting in the look of horror and astonishment on his face. However, she skimmed over the details about Otis’ involvement; at times, she was still not sure what to think about that. Had he really made free with her name? Had he really loved her, or was it a passing infatuation? He was a man of fine words, but sometimes words were not enough.

“So Charlotte boarded the London coach to look for you? On her own?” asked William, flabbergasted.

“Yes.”

He smiled wryly. “That is just like Charlotte. She did not tell father that.”

Georgiana continued breathlessly. “And then she and Sidney spent the whole night in the carriage chasing after our coach. We were nearly at the border! Well…” she paused, “I think we were, I am not really certain, to be honest.”

“They travelled together all night? Alone?” William had not thought this story could become any more shocking.

She nodded. “Yes, but that was before they… well, before they liked each other.”

William frowned. “What do you mean?”

Georgiana went quiet, looking down at her lap. “They were very much in love. They are still very much in love, William.” Raising her chin, her large, dark, luminous eyes met his through the twilight. “Of course, Mr Parker is a gentleman, I did not mean to imply…”

“But he is engaged, is he not?”

Georgiana leaned back in her chair, hands in her lap, puffing out her cheeks. “Well, that is yet another story. Do you wish to hear?”

He nodded.

Several hours and several glasses of wine later, the whole, intricate story of Georgiana, Sidney and Charlotte’s summer in Sanditon had been narrated. Georgiana was not sure if it was really her story to tell, but she trusted William, she felt safe and at ease with him, which surprised her considering she had known him for such a short period of time. She even told him a little about Otis, although she made it clear that there was no formal understanding between them. Why she did that, she could not quite tell. It was very late by the time they went to bed.

“Goodnight Georgiana,” he said softly, passing her shawl and draping it lightly around her shoulders. “Thank you for telling me what happened this summer. It is scarcely credible. My poor Charlotte. I shall write to her tomorrow and give her news of you and of Mr Parker.”

“She would like that. Goodnight William,” she replied, gathering her shawl around her and disappearing inside.

************************

The next day, William accompanied Georgiana to St John’s. As they strolled through the streets under Georgiana’s parasol, they attracted a good deal of attention. Although it was common for a white man to take a black mistress, she would not usually be paraded so publicly through the town, nor be so well dressed. They were taking some samples of raw sugar to the trading house to show the English merchants, to agree on a price per hogshead barrel before making a delivery to the port. Georgiana had never been there without Sidney’s commanding presence at her side and today she felt anxious. She hesitated at the door.

“What is it?” William asked gently.

“It’s the manner in which people look at me,” she replied awkwardly, her eyes on the ground. “And here, they do not respect me. I am a mere girl.”

William took her gloved hands in his. “Come, don’t doubt yourself. You’re more than equal to any man here. Think of your father and how proud he would be.”

“It’s not only that,” she said quietly. “It’s the way I look.” She huffed in exasperation. “Why does it matter? I did not ask to be born like this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he smiled. “Certainly not to me. Come on, stop dilly-dallying.”

She laughed. “I never heard that word before.”

Heads turned as they entered, but Georgiana kept hers held high, even when Arabella Norris shot her a contemptuous look and pointedly turned her back on her. Taking their samples of muscovado to the counter, they waited for attention from the merchants who would ship their sugar to Bristol, where it would be further refined into white sugar cones. No one approached. William tapped one of the men on the shoulder.

“Sir, we are from the Lambe plantation in St Mary’s.”

“Oh I am sorry sir, I did not recognise you, we usually deal with Mr Parker,” the man apologised. “My name is Colston.” He offered his hand.

“Pleased to meet you. William Heywood, the new estate manager.” They shook hands. “And this is Miss Lambe, the owner of the plantation.”

“Miss Lambe.” Colston nodded at her but did not offer his hand.

“Would you please give us your best price for the next shipment?” Georgiana asked politely. “We have ten hogsheads ready.”

But Colston ignored her and instead turned to William. “£300 per barrel.”

William frowned. “We got £400 last month.”

“£350?” Colston offered, showing slight exasperation.

“£375,” said Georgiana firmly. “That is our final offer.”

Colston regarded her uneasily. A hush fell as the assembled crowd turned their heads to observe the young upstart. A few sniggers were heard. “Listen to that girl. Who does she think she is?” sneered Arabella.

Sucking her teeth in indignation, Georgiana turned towards her. “And who are _you_ , Mrs Norris? I have every right to be here, as much as you do. I am out in the fields every day. Our workers are treated well and they respect me. I do not just sit on my porch sipping lemonade.” Without giving Arabella a chance to answer, she turned back to the merchant. A small cheer could be heard from the other side of the building, followed by a “Well done, Miss Lambe!” Several people laughed.

“Well, Mr Colston?” She folded her arms.

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Very well. £375 it is.”

Georgiana stuck out her hand and, reluctantly, he shook it.

Georgiana and William rode back to the house in silence, a thousand thoughts going through their minds. They returned just in time for lunch, but first they took a moment to cool down under the porch. They had not spoken much since leaving St John’s, but they now turned to each other and smiled shyly.

“How did I do?” she asked coyly.

“Very well,” William replied. “Very well indeed.”

“I could not have done it without you,” she said, regarding him directly.

“Yes, you could. You don’t need me,” he laughed, blushing.

“Yes I do,” she said quietly.

“Georgiana…” he began, but just at that moment, a sound could be heard in the distance, the sound of horses’ hooves pounding through the dust. A carriage was turning the corner of the drive and approaching the house.

Georgiana’s hands flew to her mouth. “It is Sidney!”

The carriage stopped and Sidney climbed down from the driver’s box, hat in hand, followed closely by a tall black man. Georgiana ran down the steps to greet them.

“Otis!” she cried. The pair clasped hands but did not speak, only their eyes conveying their emotions. Georgiana turned to Sidney. “What happened?” she began, but then stopped still in amazement as three other black men emerged from the carriage.

“Come,” said Sidney. “Let’s go inside. We will explain everything.”

Georgiana hurried to the kitchens to tell Dorcas and Patsy that they had additional visitors for lunch. The two servants peered curiously around the door as the four mariners entered the house. “Fine men, indeed!” laughed Patsy. A makeshift meal was put together and everyone sat down to eat. Refreshed by the good food and wine, Otis and his friends recounted the dramatic tale of their shipwreck, capture and rescue, Patsy listening eagerly as she leaned against the doorframe while Dorcas tended to her baby in the kitchen. William was a little subdued, however, and Sidney too was very quiet, hardly touching the food on his plate.

“What is it, Sidney?” asked Georgiana, concerned. “You seem tired. And you look pale.”

“Yes,” he answered. “I find myself exhausted. And it is very hot in here.” He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

“I nearly forgot!” she exclaimed. “You received a letter from England.” She went off in search of it.

Sidney groaned inwardly. Not Eliza again, surely. But it was not from Mrs Campion; indeed he had not heard from her for some time, a good omen he hoped. It was yet another letter from Tom. He opened it with resignation. The letter was full of the usual worries and pleas for his return, but some phrases towards the end caught his attention:

_“We have heard nothing from Mrs Campion in months. I even took it upon myself to call upon her in London, but I could not gain an audience with her; she was otherwise engaged. I fear, however, my dear brother, that I have done you a great wrong. In my enthusiasm for Sanditon, and my anxiety over my family’s future, I neglected your own happiness. Mary has opened my eyes to where your heart truly lies, and I berate myself night and day for not coming to the realisation sooner. However, I cannot think what is to be done. True, Lady Denham has promised me more money once the rebuilding is complete, and we have had a flurry of interest from London, but that still leaves a large shortfall. To add to my woes, Mr Stringer is soon to depart for London to take up a promising position, and Charlotte has returned home to her family, although she has promised to return for the Regatta. I cannot yet offer you a solution, my dear brother, but I wish to express my regret at my past actions and my fervent desire to have you back with us, safe and well.”_

Sidney sighed as he laid the letter down. Finally, Tom understood and wished to make amends. And at least Young Stringer was out of the picture, or so he hoped. He stretched his neck, aches and pains shooting all over his body. “I think I will go and rest,” he said to Georgiana. “Please make sure the men are taken care of.”

“Of course.” She pulled him aside privately. “Sidney. I had a letter this morning from Charlotte. I will come and read it to you later. I think you will like it,” she smiled.

“Thank you,” he said and retired to his room.

The four sailors were given rooms to share and also retired to rest for a while. Georgiana had not had the chance to speak to Otis in private; she was experiencing a tumult of emotions and was not quite sure how to proceed. She resolved to focus on the matters at hand and take things day by day, pushing a myriad of confusing thoughts to the back of her mind. Later that evening, everyone was called to the dining room for a light supper. The sailors were discussing their future plans, intending to find another merchant ship at Nelson’s Dockyard or perhaps return to England, funds permitting.

“What about you, Otis?” asked William. “What will you do?”

Otis looked uncertain. “I… I am not sure a life at sea suits me, after all. I intend to return to London and join the Sons of Africa movement again. But… this depends on certain matters.” He glanced at Georgiana, who bit her lip.

“Where is Sidney?” she asked suddenly. “Why has he not come? Patsy?”

Patsy curtseyed. “I knocked on his door Miss, and he answered, but I think he may still be in bed.”

“I will go and see,” said Georgiana, concerned, rising from her chair and hurrying to his room.

It was as she feared: Sidney was deathly pale yet burning hot to the touch; the covers thrown off, yet shivering as he writhed in the bed.

“Quick!” she called. “Fetch water and cloths. And call William!”

Patsy hurried away, returning with water and cloths, William not far behind. Georgiana and William exchanged anxious looks as she and Patsy held the cold compress to his forehead.

“I will ride into town and fetch the doctor,” said William. “Right away.”

Sidney was conscious but barely able to speak; his throat was parched. Georgiana put a cup to his lips and he drank gratefully, then began to cough. “Sssh,” she soothed him, wiping his brow. Otis came to Sidney’s bedside and helped Georgiana to cool him down.

“What do you think it is?” she whispered over the bed.

“I fear it could be the beginnings of the yellow fever,” grimaced Otis, “I have seen it many times on board ship. The white men always suffer the worst.”

“I had that as a child,” said Georgiana, “but it was not so bad, as I remember. Oh!” she cried. “I must read him the letter! Stay there a while.” She hurried off to her room.

Returning, she sat close to Sidney on the bed, holding his hand. “Look at me, Sidney,” she said firmly, and he managed to focus his eyes on hers.

“What is it?” he croaked.

“Sssh, do not speak. It is the letter from Charlotte. Listen.” And she read.

_‘My dear Georgiana,_

_I have left Sanditon for now and I am back at home with my family. William is about to depart…’_

“No wait, it’s further on. Listen.”

“ _Georgiana, the distance between us is so great and the length of time it takes for letters to arrive makes me fear that everything will have changed by the time they are received. I wish to speak plainly for once. Please assure Mr Parker that myself, the Babingtons and Lady Worcester are doing everything humanly possible to attract investors to Sanditon, and we are having some success. Lady Denham has also promised to increase her investment. Nothing has been heard of Mrs Campion for quite some time, and there are rumours – but I should stress only rumours – that she has found other interests in London. As for myself, I am well, and I am so pleased that you and Mr Parker are now friends, and that my beloved brother will soon be joining you in Antigua. I know you will all take good care of one another. Georgiana, I must tell you that I recently had a proposal of marriage from another man in Sanditon, but I refused him. I am sure you can guess who it was. Tears are falling as I write, but please, if you can, assure Mr Parker – Sidney – that my heart is his and always will be. I can never love another. Oh, I have said too much; please burn this letter if…”_

“Sidney? Did you hear that? She loves you and no other, Sidney. Sidney!” cried Georgiana.

But Sidney was rapidly sinking into unconsciousness.

************************

Less than an hour later the doctor arrived, although to Georgiana it felt like much longer. She was in some distress. “Please!” she pleaded. “Tell me you can save him. I cannot lose… I cannot lose anyone else.” She began to cry and, in her despair, turned to William and wept on his shoulder. She quickly collected herself and put some distance between them.

The doctor was busy examining Sidney. “His pulse is steady. He most certainly has a fever, but there is no jaundice, so that is hopeful. You must carefully monitor him for signs of yellowing. Has he been coughing?”

“A little,” Georgiana replied quietly.

“Any blood?”

She shook her head.

“Good. It may take some days for the fever to break, however. You will need to keep him cool and administer water as often as you can. I will call again tomorrow.”

Over the next four days, Georgiana, William and Otis took it in turns to sit at Sidney’s bedside and care for him. The doctor returned several times to check on the patient and let blood from his arm, in the hope that this would reduce the fever. Night after night, Georgiana kept vigil and the two men had to force her to rest in the daytime. She did not flinch from anything, even when he vomited, although she allowed Otis and William to change his clothes when they were soaked with sweat, or worse. On the fourth day, William was sitting by his side, mopping his brow and attempting to get water past his lips. Sidney began to splutter, opening his eyes wide. He looked suddenly afeard, as if he had seen a phantom, but then his expression changed. “Charlotte…” he murmured, then closed his eyes. “Charlotte…” A small smile spread across his face and he drifted back to sleep, a little cooler and calmer than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antigua’s coat of arms is topped by the black pineapple, said to be the world’s sweetest. Brought to Antigua from South America by the Arawak people, the pineapple was first cultivated in the 17th century. Crispy and sugary sweet without being acidic, black pineapples are delectable to the core. Despite their name, the fruit is never black.  
> Edward Colston was a Bristol merchant and MP who was heavily involved in the Atlantic slave trade in the 17th century. Colston's name was widely commemorated in Bristol landmarks, and a statue of him was erected in 1895. In June 2020, his statue was toppled and pushed into Bristol Harbour during protests in support of Black Lives Matter. Colston Hall, which was named after him, has been renamed Bristol Beacon.  
> Yellow fever: The disease originated in Africa and spread to South America with the slave trade in the 17th century. In colonial times and during the Napoleonic Wars, the West Indies were known as a particularly dangerous posting for soldiers due to yellow fever being endemic in the area. It is a mosquito-borne disease that, in its latter stages, can cause jaundice, hence the name. However, it was not until the late 1800s that mosquitoes were identified as the vector of the disease. The Spanish name for yellow fever is vómito negro ("black vomit"). Sugar pots and jars on sugar plantations may have served as a breeding place for the mosquito larvae.  
> Cassandra Austen’s fiancé Thomas Fowle went out the West Indies to make some money so that he could marry her but unfortunately died of yellow fever in 1797. Like Jane, she never married.  
> As this is a story, I think Sidney will recover... I like to be realistic, but not that realistic!


	16. The Sanditon Regatta (July 1820)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in England, it's time for the annual Sanditon Regatta, where certain people are noticeable by their absence... and more letters are received...

It was the day of the annual Sanditon Regatta. How much the town had altered in a year! What momentous changes it had undergone! And what momentous changes had occurred in the lives of those who had attended one year previously.

A few days before the Regatta, Charlotte and Alison were sitting at breakfast when Tom came in, brandishing a letter. “News from London at last!” he exclaimed. His face alternately registered expressions of surprise, dismay and befuddlement as he read. Then he simply shrugged and laid it on the table, eager to begin his repast.

“What does it say, Tom?” laughed Mary. “Do not keep us in suspense.”

“Mrs Campion is not able to come,” he said, somewhat indifferently, Charlotte felt. “She says she is in delicate health. Whatever that means.”

Charlotte noticed Tom and Mary exchange a smirk and was even more perplexed than before. Things were much brighter this time round in the Parker household, however. Tom and Mary seemed to have reached a better understanding and Mary, in particular, was much more like her old self. Upon Charlotte’s arrival, Tom had drawn her to one side and spoken with her privately, profusely apologising for his “blindness” and “the great wrong” that had been done to her, and assuring her that he had written to Sidney to tell him the same. Although he could not guarantee any amelioration of their situation, he had some hopes of a potential development. Time would tell. Charlotte half-guessed what he meant as certain rumours had reached her via Lady Worcester and Lady Babington, but she was cautious of being too hopeful.

Charlotte awoke to a glorious summer’s day and went through to Alison’s adjoining room to wake her. They had both been in Sanditon for two weeks now, helping Tom and Mary to plan and organise the weekend’s events. Most of the terraces were nearly complete and Tom was hopeful that this year would attract even more visitors from London, keen to rent apartments for the summer season and beyond. Lady Worcester had promised to attend with as many of her friends as she could muster (although unfortunately, not the most important one, as he was indisposed with the gout), Lord and Lady Babington would most certainly be there with their new baby Charles, and even Mr Stringer had agreed to come back for the annual boat race, keen to defend his title. There were, however, some significant personalities who would be missing. Mr Stringer’s father, for one. Mr Crowe, for another, claiming a delicate matter kept him in town, while Edward and Clara were still banished from Lady Denham’s presence. And, of course, Mrs Campion.

Sidney, of course, would also be noticeable by his absence, his friend Babington having agreed to take his place in the Parker Brothers’ rowing boat. Tom had not received any reply to his last letter and was becoming anxious. Charlotte had received word from William, but assumed the letter had been written shortly after her brother’s arrival in the Indies. In it, he told his sister how “ _I very much admire Mr Parker; he does not always talk a lot but when he does he has a dry wit and he likes to ask me about our family and especially about you. He often says he can see you in me. As does Miss Georgiana, who is full of witty conversation. I find her a most fascinating woman, I have to say_.” She smiled to herself as she read this.

Charlotte could not believe it had been a whole year since the weekend of the first Regatta and Summer Ball, a whole year since her hopes and dreams had been irrevocably shattered, or so she had thought. At times that weekend – the rowing boat, the ball - seemed like a distant mirage, at times she could barely remember his face; that beautiful yet inscrutable face that veered so quickly from anger to laughter, from stern disapproval to tender vulnerability. But she had never forgotten the sound of his voice: she heard it in her dreams, and it came to her every time she doubted herself or felt despondent. With the passage of time, and the letters she received from Georgiana, and now William, she felt as if she knew Sidney even better now, the first flush of excitement and infatuation having been replaced by a deeper love and understanding. And she was most certainly assured of his constancy. While back in Willingden, she had been prone to melancholy at times, missing her brother and wishing she could have accompanied him, and had been imprudent enough to pour out her feelings to Georgiana in her last letter. No matter, what was done was done; he would at least be aware that she, too, was constant in her affections.

Yet now, back in Sanditon, surrounded by people and with plenty to occupy her, Charlotte was feeling much brighter and the sea air was bringing the colour back to her cheeks. On the day of the Regatta, there was an infectious energy and excitement buzzing through the town, and it amused Charlotte to think that all this energy emanated from the vision and innovation of one man: Tom Parker. The bulk of his enterprise was now complete, although there would of course be additions and embellishments; he was certainly never short of ideas, although he had learned over time to temper his enthusiasm a little. On her return, Charlotte had assisted him again with his paperwork and was relieved to see that he was keeping up payment of the insurance premiums. Last summer’s events had been utterly cataclysmic, but everyone now seemed cautiously optimistic that the fortunes of the Parker family had indeed turned a corner.

Charlotte and Alison hurried down to the beach to help with the sandcastle competition and then strolled over to the river where they mingled among the crowds of finely dressed people partaking in an abundance of sandwiches, jellies and cakes. Mr Stringer, browsing on the book stall, spotted them and approached the two sisters, smiling broadly.

“Miss Heywood, good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Mr Stringer. How is London treating you?” Charlotte smiled back.

“Very well. Very well indeed.” He glanced across at Alison.

“Oh forgive me,” laughed Charlotte. “This is my younger sister Alison. Alison, this is James Stringer. You remember I told you about him, a highly promising young architect.”

James laughed and Alison nodded, giving James a shy smile. Just then, Lady Worcester, followed by an entourage of fine ladies and gentlemen, came forward and greeted them eagerly.

“My dear girls, you are looking wonderful,” she beamed. “You especially, Charlotte. The colour has returned to those pretty cheeks. And I am sure they will brighten even more when you hear what I have to tell you…”

Lady Susan led Charlotte discreetly away from the crowds, leaving Alison and James engaged in lively conversation.

Linking arms, Lady Susan leaned across conspiratorially to her young protégé. “We have a tontine of investors set up, my dear girl. I think they will stand around £20,000, all in all.”

“Oh that is wonderful news!” exclaimed Charlotte. “Tom will be so grateful.”

“And so he should be,” Susan smiled wryly. “I also hear that the _grande dame_ over there,” she nodded in the direction of Lady Denham, “has a soft spot for you and has said she will match whatever the tontine raises. Good news, I think.”

“Excellent news,” Charlotte beamed. “But,” she whispered, “what of Mrs Campion? Where is she today?”

Susan laughed ? “Ah, _that_ is a very good question. I think you may hear some news from that quarter very soon.”

“Tom had a letter last week,” Charlotte frowned. “Apparently she is in delicate health.”

“Yes, that is one way of putting it,” smiled Susan. “There are too many people here now, my dear. But remember, in love, as in war, there is no such thing as a foregone conclusion. I am sure you will soon have cause to celebrate.”

They returned to the throng, where Charlotte was accosted once more, this time by dear Lady Babington, cradling her baby son in her arms. Charlotte had not seen her for some months and was overjoyed to make the acquaintance of little Charles Babington, less than two months old.

“You look exceedingly well, Esther,” beamed Charlotte. “Lady Denham is looking well too.”

“Yes, my aunt has had something of an epiphany, it seems,” laughed Esther. “Magnanimity appears to suit her.”

“But where is Mr Crowe today?” asked Charlotte quietly. “Is there any news in that quarter?”

“Ah yes,” whispered Esther, “Clara delivered some two months before me. A little girl. Crowe has taken pity on her and installed her in rooms in Cheapside, but,” she dropped her voice even lower, her green eyes flashing, “the child is most certainly not his.”

“And do you think,” Charlotte whispered back, “that the real father can be persuaded to marry her?”

Esther shook her head. “Oh no. He has his eyes on another prize.”

Charlotte frowned. “Poor Clara. Perhaps your aunt can be persuaded to do something for her?”

Esther laughed sardonically. “Goodness gracious. Wonders will never cease!” Then she noticed Charlotte’s concerned expression. “Well, Charlotte, you have her ear you know… perhaps you can persuade her.”

“Maybe I will try. I believe that everyone deserves a second chance.”

Everyone gathered on the riverbank for the gentlemen’s rowing race. This year, the sun was shining and the sky was bright blue and cloudless, in stark contrast to the previous summer when it had felt as if storm clouds were constantly threatening. There was a vast crowd of onlookers, all enraptured with the day’s events and impressed with the refreshed look of the town. Once again, the race was won by the team captained by Mr Stringer, by an even wider margin than before: Tom, Arthur and Babington were no match for the strong, muscular frames of James, Fred and Jack. Charlotte and Alison ran to congratulate the workers and commiserate with the Parkers. Charlotte could not help noticing the gleam in James’ eye when he spoke to Alison. She sighed in delight; it had been such a lovely day. There was only one person missing. Still missing. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment, whether he was well, whether he was thinking of her as often as she did of him. Georgiana and William had described Antigua to her in their letters: its lush vegetation, white sand beaches, sparkling coves and densely wooded hills, but it was hard for her to imagine the exotic landscape and the suffocating heat, having only ever known the green, rolling hills of England and its temperate climate. She could just picture the three of them, sitting on the veranda on hot, humid nights, talking and laughing together. Perhaps one day she too would be able to join them on the very same veranda.

The Regatta was a great success and everyone retired to bed happily, although Tom was aching a little from his physical over-exertions. Alison and Charlotte talked over the events of the day until the early hours of the morning, Charlotte musing over the information imparted to her by Lady Worcester and Lady Babington, Alison quizzing her about Mr Stringer and his prospects. As in the previous year, a ball was to be held the very next evening, Tom hoping that some of their visitors would be tempted to remain the whole weekend.

The next morning, the two sisters were tardy at coming down to breakfast, yawning after their tiring day and late night. The servants told them that Tom and Mary had already gone out for a walk, to visit the Assembly Rooms and check the arrangements for the ball to be held that same evening. The Heywood sisters were in Tom’s office, abstractedly going through some paperwork, when Tom and Mary returned from town. They heard the front door open and a conversation between their hosts, followed by a considerable commotion. Charlotte left the office, approaching them cautiously. They were embracing each other in the hallway. Tom had a letter in his hand and when Mary turned to Charlotte, she had tears in her eyes.

“Oh Charlotte,” she breathed, but she was unable to say anything else.

“What is it?” asked Charlotte, a knot of anxiety in her stomach. “Not news from Antigua, surely?”

“No, do not concern yourself,” replied Tom. To her relief and puzzlement, he was smiling. “Another letter from Mrs Campion. Perhaps you would like to read it for yourself?” He passed Charlotte the letter and she perused its contents rapidly.

_“Dear Mr Parker,_

_I wish to inform you that I am releasing your brother Sidney from our engagement. I have come to the realisation that we are not suited after all. I will not be pressed for further details on the matter, but I have already written to Antigua to inform him of my decision.”_

A sob caught in Charlotte’s throat and she was forced to steady herself on the doorframe. Choking back her tears, she somehow managed to make sense of the rest of the letter.

_I also wish to reassure you that, in honour of my longstanding connection with and affection for your family, I will be retaining half of my original investment in your enterprise. I hope this will be sufficient; I have indeed been informed that considerable interest has been raised from other quarters. I shall send details via my lawyers…”_

Charlotte could hold back no longer. All those months – nay, a full year – of waiting, and suddenly, the bonds were released. Collapsing into Mary’s arms, she closed her eyes and, as Mary comforted her, Sidney’s face appeared, smiling tenderly at her. “You see, my love,” he said, in a teasing tone, “all it took was time, patience, a little luck, and a lot of love. That is all.”

At the ball that evening, Charlotte was radiant, ravishing, and any other adjective you could care to bestow upon her. She danced with everyone who asked her until her feet were sore, her arms were aching and her heart was pounding. Halfway through the evening, she paused to catch her breath and sip a glass of wine. She glanced up at the balcony, their balcony, raising her glass to an unseen figure.

“You see,” she said quietly, “it’s all coming together!”

*********************************

Following the momentous news, an air of relaxed contentment spread over the Parker household. The Regatta weekend had been a great success and new enquiries were flooding in all the time. The ton was bored of Brighton and looking for somewhere less expensive to spend their considerable leisure time, and of course their money. Charlotte had never seen Tom looking so happy and confident, and of course if Tom was happy, Mary was happy too. Yet still no word from Sidney: of course, it would take some weeks for Eliza’s letter to reach him.

The reason for Mrs Campion’s decision became clear when a small but noticeable announcement appeared in _The Times_ , heralding her forthcoming wedding to Sir Edward Denham, at the church of St Martin-in-the-Fields, Covent Garden. The talk of the town - according to Esther’s sources – was that the marriage had been rather hastily arranged. Nevertheless, it was sure to be a grand society occasion, attended by all the titled gentry.

Charlotte and Alison remained in Sanditon for some weeks following the Regatta, assisting Tom and Mary, visiting Lady Denham, taking long walks on the cliffs together and even enjoying a spot of seabathing. Every day, they awaited the post and finally one morning they were rewarded with a letter from Antigua. Charlotte immediately recognised William’s handwriting and eagerly opened the letter as the girls sipped their morning tea. As she read, however, her countenance was transformed from one of excitement to one of horror and dismay.

_“My dear Charlotte,_

_I write hastily to tell you of our news. So much has occurred these past few weeks that I will not trouble you with the detail now. In brief, Mr Parker was forced to sail to the island of Barbados to rescue Otis Molyneux after a shipwreck. He returned not long afterwards, happily with Otis and three of his fellow sailors, having saved them from the dreadful fate of enslavement. Everyone was overjoyed – especially Miss Georgiana – but that very same day, Sidney fell dangerously ill with the fever and we spent many, many hours at his bedside, watching over him. Georgiana barely slept and I, too, was on almost constant vigil. Happily, thanks to the doctor’s ministrations and our care, after some five days the fever broke. He is still very weak and it will take him some time to recover his strength, but the doctor assures us that the danger is past.”_

Heart pounding, Charlotte breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

_“My dear sister, while Sidney was in Barbados, Georgiana and I spent many evenings conversing and she told me the whole story of what passed last summer. I do wish you had let me into your confidence sooner. Sidney is such a fine, trustworthy man and I have learned so much from him. I must tell you that one particular night, while I was watching over him, I think he mistook me for you in his delirium, and he called out your name several times. I tell you this not to alarm you, but so that you know how much he thinks of you. I only hope that fate is kinder to you both in the future. As for myself, Miss Georgiana and I are great friends and, to tell you the truth, I would be most happy if we were to share an even closer bond, but I fear this will not be possible now that Mr Molyneux is here...”_

Clutching the letter, Charlotte hurried through to the parlour to find her hosts. Mary, playing with the children, looked up aghast. “What is it Charlotte? You have gone so pale.”

Wordlessly, Charlotte handed her the letter. “Oh no,” cried Mary, “Oh no! Let me find Tom. Sit down Charlotte, rest awhile, I will ask the servants to bring you some brandy.”

Charlotte soon collected herself, with Alison’s assistance. Tom returned, a grave expression on his face. Bending down, he laid his hand on Charlotte’s shoulder in a fatherly manner. “He is well, Charlotte, he is recovering, there is no cause for immediate concern.”

“But,” she frowned, “it will take him many weeks, months even, to recover. And he does not know about Mrs Campion…”

“No, perhaps not.” Tom drew himself up and began to pace around the room, pondering as he did so. Finally, he turned to his wife and shrugged. “There is nothing else for it. I will have to go to Antigua and bring him home.”

“Really, Tom?” gasped Mary.

“Yes, I am decided.” He glanced across at Charlotte. “And Charlotte will come with me.”

Charlotte raised her eyes, utterly astounded. Then she frowned again. “But my father…”

“Do not worry yourself,” Tom reassured her. “We will pay your parents a visit before we leave. We will explain everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, Charlotte. Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Time, patience, a little luck, and a lot of love” – fingers crossed we will get Season 2 of Sanditon in the not too distant future!
> 
> Hooray! Charlotte’s going to have an adventure! It’s alright in terms of “propriety” for her to travel with Tom isn’t it? Oh well, it is now…  
> When I visited Jane Austen’s house in Chawton back in September (when things were briefly open) I was reminded that, as well as her beloved sister Cassandra, she had six brothers, two of whom – Francis and Charles - were both in the Royal Navy and served overseas during the Napoleonic Wars, rising to the ranks of Admiral and Rear-Admiral respectively. They both saw the world – including the West Indies I expect – while Jane and Cassandra stayed quietly at home. I’m sure Jane heard many tales and often wished she could have gone to sea as well – like Admiral Croft’s wife in Persuasion.


	17. Over the waves (August-September 1820)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Charlotte and Tom get to Sidney in time? And what will Otis do?

Tom and Charlotte rode over to Willingden that very day. Although initially, Mr Heywood was extremely reluctant to part with his eldest daughter, let alone allow her to travel to the other side of the world, Tom was a very persuasive man. Besides Alison, Charlotte had told no one in her family of the disappointment she had suffered the previous summer, not wanting to cast her hosts in a bad light. When her mother and father heard the – slightly abridged - story of her and Sidney’s dashed hopes, they were both pained for their daughter and sad that she had not shared her woes with them sooner. And, of course, they were all much concerned for his health.

“Very well,” sighed Mr Heywood, at long last. “You may go.”

Mrs Heywood smiled benignly at her daughter. “I daresay Charlotte, that by the next time we meet, you will be a married woman.”

Charlotte blushed furiously. “Mother! Nothing is certain. We merely wish to see that Mr Parker is well and able to return to England… and,” she floundered, “I would like to see William, of course.”

“Come now,” smiled Mrs Heywood, “he was calling out your name. You must go and find out what he wants.”

One week later, they boarded the ship at West India Quay, Alison and Mary travelling to London with them to bid them goodbye. Charlotte was beside herself with excitement: she had never sailed on a ship before, never indeed travelled outside the South coast of England, save for her winter sojourn in London. The quay was thronging with merchants, traders and mariners; such a hustle and bustle as she had never experienced in her life. She only hoped that the voyage would be swift, uneventful and unturbulent. Fortunately, the winds were good and the ocean relatively calm; she was not ill once, although it took Tom a little longer to find his sea legs. Charlotte revelled in the fresh air, the open waves and the busy industry of the mariners: there was always something going on that caught her interest. She also spent many hours talking with Tom, who recounted long tales about his childhood, about Sidney and their parents, as well as discussing the Sanditon development, his remorse at the trouble he had caused, and his hopes for the future. It was the first time that Tom had been away from his work or his family in many years, and he appeared to visibly relax and become a different man: a calmer, more rational man. He talked of his steadfast love for Mary and their children, vowing to spend more time with them in the future. Although both were apprehensive about what they would find in Antigua, the voyage cemented their ties of friendship which, they both hoped, would become familial ties in the not too distant future.

**********************

The night when Sidney called out Charlotte’s name was indeed the night that his fever dissipated. Fortunately, he did not succumb to the second, most dangerous phase of the disease when the skin begins to yellow and the blood rises to the surface. Very slowly, he began to eat and regain his strength, and before long was able to walk outside and sit on the veranda. But he could not yet return to the fields or stay too long in the sun. In his absence, Otis and his friends were of great assistance to William in running the estate, Georgiana preferring to stay in the house and care for her guardian. After a few weeks, when Sidney’s health was somewhat improved, William accompanied Zachariah and Olaudah to Nelson’s Dockyard, where they found a merchant ship willing to hire their services. Jonas decided to stay on the plantation for the present; he was enjoying the work and also rather enjoying Patsy’s company from time to time.

Otis had not yet made any decisions about his future. Feeling himself very much indebted to Sidney, he was keen to alleviate his burden by working on the plantation for as long as he was needed. He and Georgiana were also unsure of their next steps. Having been parted for so long, their experiences had changed and matured them, and the love and friendship they had once shared was perhaps not as strong as they had thought. As there was very little occasion for them to be alone together, it was a subject they both avoided, in particular as Otis could plainly see that William held Georgiana in high regard and that she perhaps returned his feelings.

Finally, some weeks after Sidney had begun to recover, Otis asked Georgiana to take a walk with him by the river one afternoon. A soft wind was blowing as they strolled along the bank, Georgiana picking the reeds as she walked, running her fingers along the stem and letting the seeds fly into the air, far away on the breeze.

“Georgiana,” Otis began, “We need to speak plainly.”

“Yes,” she replied, “we do.” But her expression was unreadable.

He stopped and turned to face her, holding her hands in his. “My dearest Georgiana, I will do whatever you command me. If you wish me to stay here, I will. I will work harder than any man, than any slave in fact. I owe it to Mr Parker. And I am honour bound to you, my dearest…”

She cut him off with a wry smile. “Otis. You are not bound to anyone. You are a free man.”

“Yes, but… what happened in London, I can still scarcely forgive myself…”

“That is all in the past. Much has happened since then. Much has changed. I have changed, Otis. I am sure you have noticed,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to the reed that she was still picking at nervously.

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asked seriously.

She looked up, regarding him directly. “What do _you_ want to do? Be honest.”

He paused. “I would like to return to London and work for the cause. I feel… I feel I have a calling. Twice now I have been enslaved and twice I have been freed. God has a purpose for me and this purpose is to work towards the day when all my brothers and sisters will also be set free.”

“That is a noble calling indeed,” she smiled. “And I know you will devote yourself to it wholeheartedly.”

“I will. And I will never gamble, never again,” he vowed solemnly. He paused. “And shall you come with me? To London?”

She shook her head. “No. I am happy here, Otis. This is my home and I am proud of our endeavours, small as they may be. Also,” she laughed, “I believe that you and I are too similar. We are both too candid, too outspoken, too fiery… I am very glad to have shared everything we have shared, but…”

He clasped her hands. “I understand. I agree with you. And please believe me, if you and William… well, I wish you every happiness. Most sincerely.”

Georgiana laughed again, blushing. “Oh please! I would not presume…”

Otis laughed too. “Georgiana, any fool can see the esteem in which he holds you. How could he not? You are a very beautiful woman, after all. I will never forget you, Miss Georgiana Lambe.”

“And I shall not forget you, Mr Otis Molyneux.”

Briefly, they embraced each other, before continuing their walk along the river back to the house.

And so Otis began his preparations to depart for England, Jonas having decided to remain on the plantation. Sidney knew that there would not be another ship for some weeks and considered accompanying Otis on the voyage. He had now been gone from England nine months and he knew that he could not delay his return for much longer, but Georgiana insisted that he was not well enough to travel and required considerably more rest and recuperation. It has to be said that he was fairly easily persuaded. He too had observed the growing regard between William and Georgiana and was uncertain how to manage the pair: he could hardly leave Georgiana on her own, unmarried and still a minor.

The day before Otis’ departure, Sidney sat at his desk – in a somewhat vexed frame of mind – in order to pen a letter to his betrothed. He had not written to her in months and, although it had been quite some time since he had received any word from her either, she at least deserved to know of his illness and his frail state of health. Sidney began several attempts, and several attempts were discarded, the paper screwed up in frustration and tossed onto the floor. Just then, Patsy entered, bringing him the day’s post. Amongst the bills and enquiries from merchants, a letter with a London frank stood out, addressed in Eliza’s elegant hand.

Huffing even more angrily than before, Sidney opened the seal and read its contents.

“ _Dear Sidney,_

_I am fast losing hope that you will ever return. I am not a fool, and I do not wish to be taken for one. It is plain to me that you only entered our engagement to save your brother from a lifetime of debt and, while at one time I thought that we could be reconciled and rekindle our former happiness, I now see that this is, sadly, impossible. I am therefore releasing you from our engagement. What you do next is your affair alone, and I would ask you to extend the same courtesy to me.”_

Sidney’s jaw dropped in silence.

_I will be writing to your brother to apprise him of my decision and I will also inform him that I intend to retain half of my initial investment in his enterprise. Indeed, I feel something of an obligation towards your family, misplaced as it may be. My lawyer will be instructing…”_

Devoid of speech and unable to move, he let the letter fall to the floor. As tears sprang to his eyes, he put his head in his hands. At last. He was a free man.

***************************************

There was much jubilation in the house that night. Sidney had a strong urge to get blind drunk, but Georgiana would not permit him, reminding him of how close he had come to death’s door. They did however share a bottle of wine and, as was their wont, retired to the veranda to soak up the night air. Sidney reached for his tobacco.

“No, Sidney!” admonished Georgiana. “No more of that! You are not yet well and it makes you cough. I have noticed.”

“Really,” Sidney smiled, “Which of us is the guardian here, and which is the ward?” But he obeyed her orders, contenting himself with a small glass of rum.

“Perhaps I could return to England with Otis tomorrow?” he ventured. His thoughts had been tending in this direction all day. “I expect there will be room on board.”

Georgiana looked uneasy. “You are not well…” she began.

“Georgiana, I am stronger than you think. And Otis will look after me, won’t you?”

Otis nodded, smiling. “Of course.”

“But what about me?” she asked quietly.

Sidney glanced across at her. “You can stay here for now. I will return as soon as I can, I promise.” He turned to her earnestly. “I have to go, Georgiana, I have to see her. I cannot miss my chance again.”

“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes. Anyway, by the time I return, you will be practically twenty-one. You will need me no longer.”

The next morning, Sidney quickly packed his bags and he and Otis climbed into the carriage, Jonas ready to drive them. Georgiana and William embraced Sidney warmly.

“Look after Georgiana for me,” Sidney said sternly to William. “I trust you, remember.”

“I will,” said William. “She will come to no harm. I wish you a safe voyage.”

“Goodbye Otis, and good luck,” said Georgiana.

“Good luck to you as well,” he replied, embracing her tenderly. “Goodbye William,” he smiled, shaking his hand. “Look after her.”

As the carriage rounded the corner, Sidney looked back to see the pair waving at them from the porch. He only hoped he was doing the right thing.

When they arrived at English Harbour, Sidney climbed down from the carriage. “Wait here awhile,” he said to Jonas. “I shall make enquiries to see if I can secure a passage.”

Otis and Sidney proceeded through the busy port. Several ships were in dock and there were people coming and going in all directions. The noise, the smells and the sheer size of the crowd was overwhelming, and Sidney was beginning to feel a little over-heated and nauseous. Perhaps, after all, it was too soon for him to be out in the world, too soon to make such a long voyage. But he was determined.

They rounded a corner, approaching the ship that Otis was due to board and Sidney made his way towards the Captain, who was standing on deck, surveying the crowds. He was just about to enquire if there was room for another passenger on board, when suddenly, in the distance, he caught sight of some passengers alighting from another ship. Two very well dressed passengers, a gentleman and a lady. The man was very tall and thin, wearing a top hat and twirling a cane, the lady much shorter, adjusting her bonnet as she spoke to the porter who was carrying their luggage. Sidney blinked and swallowed, unable to believe his eyes.

“Otis, look!” he cried, pointing to the pair, clutching onto Otis for support.

Otis broke into a wide smile. “Go to them!” he urged.

As if in a dream, Sidney slowly approached the pair.

“Tom!” he called, his voice breaking with emotion.

Tom looked up. “Sidney! How did you know we were coming?” he laughed, puzzled.

Sidney simply shook his head, still beaming. Tom stepped forward and the two brothers embraced heartily. Then, over Tom’s shoulder, his eyes met hers. Those beautiful deep brown pools, mirroring and searching his own. Releasing himself from his brother’s grasp, he stepped closer towards her, taking her small, warm hands in his. They had no need of words. A small laugh escaped her, even as her tears began to fall. He too laughed in disbelief.

“Charlotte…” was all he could utter.

“Sidney,” she said, with a smile that conveyed so much.

“Charlotte…” he stammered, “I am a free man.”

“Yes,” she replied. “I know.”

Stepping forward, she fell into his embrace, and as he wrapped his arms tightly around her slender frame, he closed his eyes in joyful relief, pressing his lips softly against her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much historical detail from now on – just pure mush 😊  
> Originally, I planned to reunite Otis and Georgiana and have them manage the plantation together. But it seemed right somehow that Georgiana would want to stay in Antigua and that Otis would want to become a political activist. Also, realistically, I think life would have been extremely difficult for a black couple managing a sugar plantation at that time (it’s already not exactly accurate that their workers are free). Luckily, William Heywood is a smashing chap 😊


	18. Proposals (September-October 1820)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's in the title... And absolutely NO interruptions, especially not from Tom!  
> Charlotte and Sidney also - finally - have the chance to get to know each other a little better...

After bidding Otis goodbye, Tom, Charlotte and Sidney climbed into the carriage. As they drove away from the port towards St Mary’s, Charlotte barely noticed her exotic surroundings – the shimmering sea, the endless blue sky, the dark, towering mountains. All her attention was on the man sitting beside her; his imposing frame, his pronounced features, his expressive eyes and the large hands now firmly clasped around hers. He was the same beautiful man, yet paler and thinner, it was true. They had still barely spoken.

Tom, chattering away about the voyage, was a little amused. “For two people who have not seen each other in over a year, you have very little to say,” he laughed.

Sidney simply smiled, squeezing Charlotte’s hand as he did so. Finally, she broke the silence between them.

“You have been unwell,” she stated, looking up into his eyes, “my brother wrote to tell me.”

“Yes,” he nodded, returning her gaze, “very unwell. But I am growing stronger all the time. I was about to board a ship to England,” he laughed in disbelief, “I received a letter from… from her… only yesterday.” He paused, frowning. “But how did you… your father, I presume he knows that you are here?”

“Oh yes,” Tom winked at his brother, “you have no worries on that score, Sidney. We paid a visit to Willingden before we sailed and you can be assured that Charlotte’s parents thoroughly approve. I am overjoyed to see you looking so well, my dear brother, I cannot tell you…”

Sidney and Charlotte exchanged a shy smile and Sidney took the liberty of placing his arm gently around her, as she leaned against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar, remembered scent.

The concern at seeing Sidney return so soon was quickly replaced by astonishment and joyful delight, as William saw his beloved sister alight from the carriage, followed by a man he did not recognise.

“Georgiana!” he called. “Come quickly!”

William hurried forward to embrace his sister and Georgiana came running out onto the porch, nearly fainting with excitement when she saw who had accompanied Sidney back from the port. She ushered them all into the dining room, where a late luncheon was served. There was much news to be exchanged and many stories to impart, as they all put together the pieces of the puzzle formed by their respective letters over the preceding months. Charlotte was also keen to give William the news from Willingden, such as it was, and Tom eager to tell Sidney all about the glorious Regatta, the Summer ball and the scores of investors and visitors flocking to Sanditon. Charlotte and Sidney, seated next to each other, barely had a chance to exchange a word. As their friends chattered, Sidney quietly moved his hand under the table and reached for her delicate fingers, breathing a sigh of happiness as her small hand caressed his.

“Well,” said Georgiana, placing her napkin on the table and rising from her chair. “I must show you to your rooms.”

But Sidney cut in. “No, wait a moment, please.” He stood. “I wish to have a word with Charlotte. There is a conversation that we need to… we need to finish.” Turning to Charlotte, he extended his hand. “Will you come with me onto the veranda? Please?”

Smiling shyly, Charlotte rose from her chair and followed him towards the door. As they departed, Sidney turned and pointed a finger at his ward. “Stay there, Georgiana,” he said sternly, but with a mischievous smile. Sighing, she returned to her seat, giving William a look of excited apprehension.

They had been so long at the table that the sun was already beginning to set, its deep orange rays radiating across the horizon. As they stood on the veranda, facing each other, a gentle breeze was blowing through the trees and the cicadas were beginning their nightly chorus. Sidney took Charlotte’s hands in his, in much the same way as he had done on the balcony, so many months ago.

“Charlotte… my dearest Charlotte… I can scarcely believe…” He stopped, emotion overcoming him, as he caressed her hands, his thumbs brushing her wrists. He tried again. “Charlotte… it is a strange thing to say, but although it has been so long since we were last together, somehow I feel I know you even better than I did before.”

“So do I,” she said quietly.

“All those things you wrote in your letters to Georgiana… to William… did you mean them?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Every word.”

Sidney smiled in grateful relief.

“And you?” she asked, her eyes searching his. “Did you also mean what you wrote? What Georgiana told me?”

“Of course I did. I have never stopped loving you.”

“Nor I.” A small intake of breath. “William told me that when you were unwell… you called my name…”

“Did I?” He laughed, somewhat surprised. “And you came.” He paused, clasping her hands even more tightly than before. “Charlotte, I am so sorry for the pain I caused. But please believe me, the pain was just as hard for me to bear.”

Releasing one hand from his grip, she gently caressed his jaw. “I know. There is nothing to forgive. Nothing.”

“Well then.” He clasped the hand that held his cheek. “My dearest Charlotte, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Of course I will, Sidney.”

Time froze for an instant as their eyes locked, then the world spun around them as his lips landed gently on hers. Hesitantly at first, and then more boldly, drinking in that taste that he had thought he would never taste again, as she responded with longing, eager to make up for all those lost moments, those lost chances, the months of patient waiting, the many nights of passionate dreams followed by the many lonely mornings. At last, the world was set right on its axis and they were lonely no more. As he wrapped his arms tightly around her, unable to stop kissing her, she felt the pieces of her heart come slowly back together. Here, she felt safe. Here, she felt at home.

“Sit down, Georgiana!” laughed Tom. “Leave them be!”

Georgiana was attempting to spy out of the window to see what was transpiring on the veranda. “They have been a very long time,” she said, peering around the window frame. She turned round and smiled at the assembled company, clapping her hands in glee. “It certainly looks like all is well,” she sighed happily.

Sidney broke away reluctantly. Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered, “I love you, Charlotte.”

“I love you too,” she breathed, lifting her face for yet another kiss. Instead, he planted small tokens of his love all over her face, her eyelids, her nose, her forehead, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth, her chin, her hair, laughing softly between each kiss.

“Come, let’s return and tell the others.” Taking her hand in his, he led her back to the dining room. All eyes were trained on them expectantly. Sidney blushed a little.

“Well?” said Georgiana impatiently.

Sidney bowed his head, then looked across at Charlotte, bashfully yet with pride. “I have asked Charlotte to marry me and she has agreed to become my wife.”

Georgiana let out a cheer and everyone congratulated the newly betrothed couple most heartily.

“Where will you hold the ceremony?” asked Tom. “Will you wait until your return to England?”

“Oh no,” cut in Georgiana, “you must get married here, in Antigua. We will have a celebration. Then you can sail home together as man and wife. It is less expensive if you share quarters,” she giggled.

“Charlotte?” Sidney enquired of her, smiling tenderly at his new fiancée. “It is up to you, my dear.”

“We have waited long enough. How soon can we be married?” she asked, blushing a little.

“A few weeks? Now that you are here, you must explore the island, we must show you everything there is to see.”

“Very well,” she agreed. Sidney leaned across, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek.

“But what about you, Tom?” he asked. “Who is holding the fort in Sanditon?”

“Ah yes,” replied Tom. “Luckily, I was able to persuade Mr Stringer to return temporarily, to manage the business in my absence.”

“My sister Alison is staying to help Mary,” added Charlotte. “And you, Georgiana?” she continued. “Will you stay here?”

Georgiana said nothing, for once. Sidney responded on her behalf. “We will have to give that matter some consideration, I think,” he said, his gaze briefly resting on William.

***************************

Worn out from the voyage and the excitement of the day, Charlotte slept soundly that night. Sidney, however, was restless, barely able to credit that, in a few short days, his life had been miraculously transformed for the better and that the woman he loved was sleeping only a few feet away, down the corridor. He was up early the next morning, just as Georgiana and William were riding out to the fields, and was already on his second coffee when his sweetheart appeared in the doorway of the breakfast room.

“Good morning,” she smiled, fanning herself. “I cannot believe it is already so hot at this time of day. You are accustomed to it, I suppose.”

Sidney simply stared at her flushed cheeks, her beautiful brown eyes and her unruly hair tumbling around her face. Moving towards her, he took her hands in his, yet again.

“I almost thought that yesterday was a dream,” he said softly.

“No. It was not a dream,” she replied, gazing up at him. Sidney bent down and kissed her, a kiss that extended far beyond usual propriety for that time of the morning. They heard a cough behind them and broke away, laughing.

“Good morning!” breezed Tom. “Any coffee here?”

Shortly after breakfast, Sidney rode into St Mary’s and procured a marriage licence for three weeks hence. Riding along the dusty tracks, he blinked in wonder as he regarded the arid landscape all around him. One year ago, he never would have believed that he would be back in Antigua and he certainly never would have believed that his beloved Charlotte would have sailed all the way across the Atlantic to find him and bring him home. He urged his horse to go faster, desperate to return and be at her side, vowing not to let her out of his sight for a single moment over the next three weeks, during daylight hours at least. 

Upon his return, he found William waiting for him in his study.

“May I have a word please, Sir?” William asked, a little nervously.

Sidney smiled benevolently at him. He had some idea of the purpose of William’s business. “Sit down, William. How can I assist you?”

William cleared his throat, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “It is about Miss Georgiana,” he said eventually, looking up.

Sidney nodded. “Go on.”

“I find… I find… that we are very well suited. In many ways. Please believe me, her fortune makes no difference to my regard for her. I am enjoying the life here and I think I am doing well. I hope you agree?”

“Certainly. I could not be leaving the estate in more capable hands. But what’s your point, William?” Sidney smiled.

“Well Sir, I had not planned to mention anything just yet, but as you and my sister will soon be returning to England, I… I would like to ask Georgiana if she would agree to be my wife. With your consent, naturally.”

Sidney stood up, patting him on the back in a brotherly fashion. “Of course, William. Anyone can see how much you care for each other. You have my consent, although it is of course Georgiana’s decision. And, as I am sure you will agree, Georgiana Lambe never does anything she does not want to do.”

William laughed. “That is very true. Thank you, Sidney. You have been such a good friend to me.”

Sidney smiled. “And you to me. Before very long, we shall be brothers.” The two men shook hands warmly.

Later that afternoon, William and Georgiana took a long walk together in the fields. By the time they returned, it was nearly dark. Sidney, Charlotte and Tom were conversing on the veranda before dinner and all looked up expectantly as the pair made their return.

“There you are,” smiled Sidney. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“Well?” grinned Charlotte, but the events that had transpired were apparent from their flushed expressions and their wide smiles.

“Sidney, I think you will need to ride into St Mary’s again tomorrow,” Georgiana said cheekily. “It looks like we will be having a double wedding.”

Charlotte, Sidney and Tom came forward to embrace the pair. “It is wonderful news,” said Charlotte, hugging her brother. “Wonderful. But why are you covered in dirt, William?” she laughed.

Georgiana laughed merrily. “He insisted on kneeling down in the dust in order to propose.” She turned to Charlotte, her eyes bright. “Charlotte, you and I will go into St John’s together later this week, to buy dresses for our wedding.” She hugged her friend happily. “Oh, what fun we will have!”

*********************

Aside from a few essential shopping excursions, and business that Sidney was required to attend to, Sidney and Charlotte spent every day of the next three weeks in each other’s company, from sunrise to sundown. Sidney’s strength was indeed returning apace, helped no doubt by his sudden change in fortune and the comforting presence of his one true love. They rode around the island together on horseback, exploring the coves, the white sand beaches, the jagged hills, and the towns of St Mary’s and St John’s, although Charlotte preferred to remain in the peaceful surroundings of the coast and the countryside, where they took long walks together, deep in conversation. They were both well aware that, although they had formed an unbreakable bond the previous summer, there was still much they did not know about the other, and they were glad to have this uninterrupted time together to explore their deepest thoughts and feelings. Quite simply, the more they talked and listened to each other, the stronger their love grew; Charlotte, in particular, was relieved that her instincts about this complex, intense man had been correct all along. As she had once said, there was indeed a tenderness to him that few others got to see, a tenderness he showed her continually, both through his words and through his displays of physical affection.

Gradually and tentatively, Sidney recounted to her the whole story of his time in Antigua: the reasons why he had first sailed there, all those years ago, the horrors he had witnessed, how his daily involvement in these horrors had led him into a life of intemperance and dissipation, and how Mr Lambe had saved him from near-certain death, or at least from turning into an unfeeling brute like the men he so despised. Sidney also confessed to her something of the vices in which he had indulged during his lost years – the drinking, the gambling, the fighting, and yes, even the brothels. There was little point in denying it, after all; she had been inside the “boarding house” in Drury Lane, and she knew he had been a visitor there, if not a frequent one. But to his relief, Charlotte listened without judgement, questioning him, drawing him out of himself, and reassuring him that, despite his past, she knew he was a good man and yes, she still loved him. More than ever, in fact.

“It is a strange thing,” he pondered, “I always thought that returning here would be too much for me to bear. That it would bring back all the horrors that I have long tried to escape and put out of my mind. But actually, returning to Antigua has in some ways been my salvation. I feel… I have made peace with the past somehow.”

“And do you now feel ready to face the future?” Charlotte smiled, looking up at him.

He took her hand. “Yes. With you by my side.”

“I remember I told you once that you were much improved,” she continued. “I was wrong.”

“Oh?” he asked, a little concerned.

She smiled tenderly at him once more. “You were only a little improved then. I find you even more improved now, if that is possible.”

“Do you?” he smiled back, squeezing her hand.

“When I see how you are with Georgiana, with my brother, with the labourers… you are a very different man to when I first met you. Very different.”

“I am still far from perfect.” He stopped, placing his arms around her waist.

“Well, of course. I never said you were perfect,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, as he squeezed her waist, making her squirm and giggle, then quietened her with a lingering kiss.

Three days before the wedding, they strolled down to the riverside. The weather was very hot and humid that day, so they sat down on the riverbank to rest awhile. Charlotte was wearing a simple white muslin dress, her hair loose under one of the straw hats that Georgiana had given her, much more practical than a fussy English bonnet. Sidney took off his own hat and laid down with his head in his love’s lap, chewing a long grass stem as he did so, having now completely forsworn tobacco under Georgiana’s instructions. For some minutes they did not speak, enjoying the quietness and beauty of their surroundings, and the warmth and closeness of each other’s bodies. Charlotte caressed Sidney’s hair, while he gazed up at her beautiful face and the generous curve of her bosom. Every night for the past three weeks, they had parted for the night with a chaste kiss outside Charlotte’s bedroom door, and every night it became harder for them to part. Sidney was indeed very glad she had agreed to marry him before they returned to England. Over the last year, he had attempted to push all his forbidden thoughts of her to the back of his mind, and had mostly been successful, but now, with her warm, soft body so close to his, he was just a little impatient for the day when she would at last become his wife.

For her part, Charlotte had no fears in this regard: she had grown up on a farm after all, and she had heard the gossip and the tales of some of the village girls. She knew the meaning of the look that sometimes flashed in Sidney’s eyes and she had felt it too, more than once. She knew that he loved her and would treat her well, but nevertheless, after hearing all the stories from his past, she could not help feeling a little anxiety. Georgiana and William, after all, were closer in age and much more equal in this respect.

“Sidney…” she began tentatively, as she stroked his forehead.

Sidney was far away, daydreaming. He opened his eyes. “Yes, my love?”

“Sometimes I… well, you are so much older than me…”

“Not that much – only eight years or so. What does that matter?”

“Well. You have had so many experiences, whereas I…”

“Ah yes,” he reached up to caress her face. “But you are much, much wiser, Charlotte. We have always known that.”

She laughed, but then her brow furrowed in the manner he found so adorable. “What is it?” he asked softly.

She looked out at the shimmering river, unable to meet his gaze. “It is difficult to say. I am speaking of… our wedding night.”

Sidney sat up, taking her hands in his. “My dearest Charlotte, there is no need to worry. None at all. My… experiences, as you call them, were long ago. And… believe me, I have never been with a woman who I truly loved. Not until now.”

She swallowed. “And… Mrs Campion?”

Horrified, Sidney shook his head. “Good Lord, no. I was numb for months, Charlotte. All I could think of was you.” He paused. “I heard you had a proposal of marriage, however? From Mr Stringer?”

She blushed. “It was hardly a proposal. He merely asked to write to me. But he knew very well where my heart lay.”

“He is a fine, upstanding young man,” Sidney smiled, bringing his face closer to hers.

“Yes, he is,” she replied softly, “but he is not you.”

As their lips met, Charlotte allowed herself to fall back onto the grass, her hat discarded to the side and her lustrous hair fanning out behind her. Sidney lowered himself gently over her as they kissed, his hands clasping her head, his fingers entwined in her curls. Reaching her arms around him, Charlotte softly stroked his back. As the weight of his body pressed against hers, she felt a deep warmth radiating right through her and let out a contented sigh. Sidney’s breath quickened, his body responding all too eagerly. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the embrace, staring into those beautiful brown eyes that regarded him with such love and understanding.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, “please let me just…” Bending his head, he placed small kisses on her neck and the top of her bosom, which was rising gently from her bodice as her breaths became shallower. Then he stopped, shifting slightly to the side and, leaning on one elbow, looked down at her tenderly, smiling almost cheekily, like the young boy he now felt himself to be.

“Can you wait three days?” Charlotte smiled, caressing his jaw.

“Yes,” he laughed softly. “After all, I’ve been waiting over a year for you. What’s another three days?” Boldly, he allowed his fingers to wander over her breasts, as he bent down to kiss her again. “In fact, I’ve been waiting nearly half my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need to set the world right on its axis, don't we? It feels like everything is out of alignment...


	19. Weddings (October-November 1820)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming on this journey to the West Indies with me! I've really enjoyed it and I've learned a lot - I hope you have too. It's been lovely to imagine being in a warm, sunny climate instead of a cold and grey November in England during lockdown!  
> So it's time for a double wedding in Antigua...  
> By the way, the wedding night/morning is more like what I imagine we'd actually see on the screen...

The day of the wedding dawned. Another beautiful day on the island of Antigua with its infinite cloudless skies. In keeping with tradition, the two couples were not permitted to meet on the morning of the nuptials. Tom, Sidney and William rose early and, once ready, made their way to the church in St Mary’s, in the carriage driven by Jonas. Sidney had promised Charlotte that, upon their return to England, they would hold another ceremony in Willingden, which the rest of the Parker family would discreetly attend. Even so, they were both overjoyed that, in many ways, today would be a family affair, attended by their two brothers and by Georgiana who, although she had at one time been a bone of contention between them, was now very much their mutual friend, having done so much to keep the flame of their love alive over the last year.

The two prospective brides were in Georgiana’s room, where Dorcas and Patsy were putting the finishing touches to their wedding attire. Before she left Willingden, Charlotte’s mother had pressed a beautiful pearl necklace into her hand, a family heirloom worn at her mother’s and her grandmother’s weddings, which Patsy now fastened around her slender neck, on full display for the occasion, her normally unruly hair having been swept up into an elegant bun, ready for the wedding veil to be delicately placed on top. Dorcas, meanwhile, was braiding Georgiana’s hair in the traditional fashion and she, too, was sporting a fine set of emeralds left to her by her father, which sparkled elegantly against her white dress.

At last, it was time to depart for the church. Georgiana and Charlotte climbed into the carriage, accompanied by Patsy, while Dorcas stayed behind to prepare the wedding feast. All the labourers on the plantation had been given a holiday in honour of their mistress and master’s weddings, and many families were already there, helping the servants arrange the tables outdoors. A group of men had gathered to play their musical instruments, to which the women were singing along as they worked. Charlotte gazed around her with wonder and astonishment: never in her life had she imagined that her wedding day would be anywhere near as colourful and exotic as this.

The church too was very different from the cold, grey, ancient stone of the parish church in Willingden, nestling in a damp valley surrounded by long grass and weathered headstones: this brightly painted, white church sat invitingly on the top of a small hill, surrounded by coconut and breadfruit trees, hibiscus and frangipani flowers. As the carriage drew up in front of the church, Patsy adjusted the veils of the two brides, allowing Georgiana to step out first.

As Georgiana’s guardian, Sidney would be escorting his ward down the aisle first, and then Tom had agreed to do the same for Charlotte. Apart from Jonas and Patsy, there were no other witnesses, but Charlotte found she did not mind one bit: it would be a private, intimate ceremony, where they could express their enduring, steadfast love in front of the people who mattered to them most. Sidney was waiting at the door of the church and Charlotte gasped when she saw him, formally dressed in black top coat and tails, his trademark black hat perched on his head.

“Stay there a moment,” said Georgiana, “he must not see you yet.”

Charlotte obeyed her friend, watching from the carriage as Georgiana made her way up the path. Sidney smiled in greeting and, removing his hat, escorted her inside on his arm. Once they were out of sight, Charlotte and Patsy alighted and Charlotte sat quietly at the back of the church, watching her dear brother become wedded to one of her dearest friends. A lump rose in her throat and her stomach churned nervously as they recited their vows. Next, it would be her turn; a day she had thought would never come was now about to become a reality. After saying their vows, the newly wedded couple embraced, then took their seats in one of the side pews. Sidney, standing tall and erect in front of the minister, facing the altar, had still not turned his head to catch a glimpse of his bride.

Tom approached Charlotte, beaming proudly and offering his arm. Charlotte stood up and they moved slowly down the aisle together as the organ played. Only then did Sidney allow himself a glance behind his shoulder. It was all he could do to hold back the tears as he watched the beautiful young woman walking towards him, smiling lovingly from behind her veil. He barely noticed her graceful, flowing white gown or her sparkling jewels: his attention was solely focused on her face, his eyes not leaving hers for one moment. As she approached the altar, he extended his hand, gently caressing her fingers. One year ago, he would never, ever have believed this possible. The gods, fate, human endeavour or perhaps simply the vagaries of human nature had indeed been kind to them.

They recited their marriage vows in a dream, hardly able to concentrate on the words they uttered, yet meaning every single syllable.

_To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth._

In the short time they had known each other, they had already traversed so many difficulties. Charlotte had no doubts that whatever life had in store for them, they would face it together, the travails of the last year having indelibly strengthened their love and commitment to each other.

Sidney promised to himself that he would indeed love and cherish this woman forever, until the day of their final parting on God’s earth. He placed the ring on her finger.

_With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen._

Lifting Charlotte’s veil, he bestowed a sweet kiss upon her lips. He had a strong urge to lift her up into his arms, carry her out of the church, whisk her into the carriage and take her straight home to his chamber, but instead he demurely took her arm and they processed back down the aisle, beaming happily at their friends.

Outside the church, Charlotte embraced her brother warmly, Sidney congratulated Georgiana, and Tom shook hands with everyone. Tom, himself a little choked with emotion, climbed into the carriage with the new Mr and Mrs Parker.

“I am so happy for you my dear brother,” he smiled, “I only wish that Mary were here to see this day.”

“We shall see Mary very soon,” replied Charlotte, patting his arm. They had indeed arranged a passage back to England for a few days’ hence, as Tom was most anxious to return to Sanditon and Charlotte and Sidney were eager to begin their new life together.

Upon their return to the house, Charlotte was astonished to see how much had been prepared in their absence. A long table had been laid outside, covered in a white tablecloth, groaning under the weight of all the food: saltfish, lobster, rice, dumplings, chicken, tamarind stew, sweet potatoes and eggplant, plus of course pineapple, all to be washed down with imported wine and local rum.

Georgiana indicated Sidney’s seat at the head of the table. “No, Georgiana,” he smiled, “you are the mistress now.”

Not wanting to be apart from William, however, Georgiana made room for the two of them at the top of the table. Everyone ate, drank, talked and laughed long into the evening. Once all the courses had been served, the musicians struck up their familiar melodies on the balafon, violin, drums and panpipes, and everyone danced as the sun began to fall below the horizon. Charlotte watched happily as her brother twirled a radiant Georgiana around until she was quite giddy, and Jonas did the same with Patsy. Perhaps they would be the next couple to walk down the aisle at the church in St Mary’s.

Sidney turned to his wife. “Charlotte… would you do me the honour? It has been some time since we danced together.”

“Yes it has,” she smiled, remembering their magical dance in London and their missed chances at the midsummer ball. Yet the music here was very different indeed to the country tunes they had danced to in Sanditon or the more formal music played at London gatherings. The happy couple laughed in delight as they swirled and twirled across the grass in joyous abandon. Charlotte’s hair escaped its strictures, falling around her shoulders and flying wildly through the air as Sidney spun her round time and time again. Breathless and laughing, they paused for a while, unable to keep up with the pace and rhythm set by the musicians, and instead contented themselves with gently swaying in each other’s arms, happily gazing at each other and soaking up the infectious fun and laughter of all those around them. Over the previous winter in London, Charlotte had attended many grand balls with many important, sophisticated personages, but none were as magical, as memorable or as precious to her as this wonderful evening, dancing on the grass, under the stars.

Darkness fell and the guests drifted away back to their homes. The servants cleared the tables and retreated inside. Tom, too, discreetly took his leave, followed soon after by Georgiana and William.

“Goodnight Charlotte! Goodnight Sidney!” they called happily.

Sidney and Charlotte waited awhile, arms coiled around each other tightly as they stood side by side, contemplating the starry firmament.

“Are you happy, Charlotte?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” she replied, “I have never been happier.”

“I am sorry we did not have a grand English wedding and a fashionable party,” he smiled.

“Oh Sidney,” she laughed, turning to caress his face, “you know I don’t give a fig about that. This has been the best day of my life.”

“Mine too,” he said, bending down and meeting her lips with his own. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Taking her hand, he led her up the steps into the house. This time, he did not leave her at the door of her chamber, but followed her inside. For a moment, they simply stood and smiled at each other shyly. Then Charlotte turned her back to him, lifting up her glorious mane of hair to expose her graceful neck.

“Could you unfasten my necklace please?” she asked quietly. Sidney came forward and unclasped the beads, placing them on the table. “And help me with my dress?” she said, with a tremble in her voice.

Before doing so, he leaned forward to kiss her neck. Charlotte shivered. Slowly, he unfastened the buttons that led all the way down her back and she stepped out of the dress, laying it on the chair. After loosening her stays, he removed all his garments apart from his shirt, then stood behind her and held her close, his strong arms wrapped around her waist.

“Charlotte…” he said into her ear, “I love you very, very much.”

Turning, Charlotte reached her arms around his neck, pulling his face towards hers. “I love _you_ very much, Sidney. More than anything.”

Laughing and kissing with unbridled joy and delight, they fell together onto the bed.

The next morning, as the sun streamed through the windows, Charlotte awoke to find her husband smiling down at her. She smiled back. Sidney was a passionate, yet tender lover, patient and loving, seeking to guide yet not to instruct. Once the initial discomfort had been overcome, the night she had spent in his arms had been just as wonderful as she had long hoped and dreamed it would be. More wonderful, in fact, evoking feelings in her that she had never imagined possible.

Sidney, meanwhile, was simply thinking to himself that he was the happiest, luckiest man alive.

“Good morning, Mrs Parker. Did you sleep well?” he asked, smiling.

“Good morning,” she yawned. “Yes, I slept very well… eventually,” she said mischievously.

Sidney caressed her hair. “And how do you like being married?” he asked, planting a kiss on her nose.

She pretended to ponder for a moment, then broke into a grin. “I find I like it very much.”

“Oh do you?” he laughed, shifting his weight on top of her. “I find I like it very much as well. Very much indeed.” Charlotte gasped with pleasure as his strong arms enveloped her, his mouth urgently exploring every part of her soft, warm skin.

***********************

And so, a few days later, Tom, Sidney and Charlotte boarded the ship at English Harbour. Georgiana and William accompanied them to the port and bid them a tearful farewell.

Sidney took Georgiana’s hands in his. “Promise me you will let me know of any problems. We can return at any time.”

“Of course,” she replied. “And thank you, Sidney. For everything.”

“Thank _you_ , Georgiana,” he said. “We have come a long way, have we not?”

“We have indeed,” she replied, embracing him tenderly.

Charlotte clung to William. “Oh, I hope we shall see you again before too long,” she said.

“I’m sure we will,” her brother reassured her. “We will come to England as soon as we can. I would very much like to introduce my wife to mother and father, of course.”

“Goodness me,” laughed Charlotte. “That will certainly cause a stir in Willingden.”

They boarded the ship and began the long, tedious voyage back to England, although it has to be said that Sidney and Charlotte did not find it quite as tedious as Tom, as they found plenty to occupy themselves with. Poor Tom found the days on board ship long and lonely, but the newlyweds joined him every evening for dinner, often a little flushed from their afternoon exertions. By the time the ship docked in London and Sidney finally set foot on English soil once more, almost a year to the day since he had sailed to Antigua, his wife was almost certainly with child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please click on next chapter to read the Epilogue and the final Notes.


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue to tie up the stories.  
> Please do read the notes for your final history lesson :) 
> 
> Thanks so much for all your comments and encouragement - I've been a Sanditon fan since September 2019 and I've had this story in mind for a long time, so I'm quite surprised I finally managed to get it all out on paper. It took some twists and turns I didn't quite expect, but we finally got a happy ending. :)

While Sidney and Charlotte were in Antigua, another wedding took place in London, that of Eliza Campion and Sir Edward Denham. It was a grand affair, although somewhat marred by the fact that, as the groom was approaching the church, a young, fair-haired woman emerged onto the street, carrying a small baby girl in her arms, beseeching Sir Edward’s attention. She was swiftly bundled away by the ushers, but not before news of the incident had travelled inside the church. Nonetheless, Eliza Denham did not allow this to spoil her day, or her marriage, and was herself delivered of a baby boy some seven months later. She did not, however, receive the news of Sidney Parker’s marriage to Charlotte Heywood with such equanimity. Despite his tomcatting ways, her marriage to Edward was reasonably happy. At least I hope so.

At Charlotte’s behest, Lady Denham provided a discreet dwelling in the country for her disgraced niece, Clara Brereton, where she lived happily, raising her child, far away from the influence of men. At least I hope so.

Lord and Lady Babington continued to enjoy their happy marriage, producing more children as the years went by, and were most delighted by the equally happy marriage of their best friends, Sidney and Charlotte Parker.

James Stringer became a renowned architect, of course, and he may or may not have married Alison Heywood. I expect he did.

As for Crowe, well, I’m sure he’s having fun somewhere. Perhaps he and Clara are a story for another day.

Otis returned to London, where he found employment once more in the shipping trade and became a leading light in the abolition movement. Eventually, he married and had a family, but he never again sat at the gambling table, that I am sure of.

Georgiana and William remained in Antigua, running the plantation and living happily together. Georgiana made William laugh daily, although there were times when he wished she would hold her tongue. Following the birth of their first child, they paid a visit to England, leaving Jonas and Ezekiel in charge of the estate while they were absent. They did indeed give the villagers of Willingden something to talk about, for once.

Still in Antigua, Jonas married Patsy and as for Dorcas, I’d like to think that her son Jeremiah also became a leading figure in the abolitionist movement.

Tom was overjoyed to return to his family and he and Mary began something of a new life together. Now that his project was more or less complete, his financial worries were over, and Sidney and Charlotte were close at hand, Tom spent less time on his business and more time with his wife and children, and everyone was much happier as a result, although Charlotte still had to keep a close eye on his paperwork.

As for Sidney and Charlotte, they settled in the old Parker house nestling in the hills a little distance from the new town and divided their time between Sanditon and London, always planning for the day when they would return to Antigua for another visit, and always being delayed by the arrival of yet another child. Naturally, there never were two hearts so open, with tastes so similar, feelings so in unison, and countenances so beloved, and they lived in perfect harmony and felicity for the rest of their days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After decades of campaigning, the Slavery Abolition Act was passed in Britain in 1833 and came into force the following year, on 1 August 1834, although in practical terms, only slaves below the age of six were freed in the colonies. Former slaves over the age of six were redesignated as "apprentices” and their servitude was abolished in two stages: in 1838 and in 1840. The Act was not extended to "the Territories in the Possession of the East India Company, the Island of Ceylon, and the Island of Saint Helena" until 1843.  
> The Slave Compensation Act of 1837 paid out £20 million (40% of the Treasury's annual income!) in compensation to the former slave owners, but nothing was ever paid to the former slaves. Incredibly, this debt was not paid off by the UK government until 2015, so effectively British taxpayers - including many descendants of slaves - were paying this debt for nearly 200 years.  
> In the United States of America, Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation was issued in 1863 and the slaves were emancipated at the end of the Civil War in 1865.  
> Modern slavery, both in the form of human trafficking and people imprisoned for forced or compulsory labour, continues to this day. 40 million people are estimated to be trapped in modern slavery worldwide: 1 in 4 of them are children; almost three quarters (71%) are women and girls; in 2019, over 10,000 potential victims were identified by the authorities in the UK.  
> https://www.antislavery.org/slavery-today/modern-slavery/

**Author's Note:**

> Some fiction I recommend, which is way better written and does this subject more justice than I could ever do...:  
> The Long Song by Andrea Levy  
> Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys  
> A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid
> 
> And non-fiction: Belle by Paula Byrne  
> The chapter "The Daughter of Mansfield" from The Real Jane Austen, by Paula Byrne  
> William Wilberforce a Biography by Stephen Tomkins  
> And of course Mansfield Park...


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